Monsters of the Deep End
by Twisted Flame
Summary: Future fic, kind of my interpretation of a spinoff. Chris and his friends in high school. The all popular school baseball star invites Chris's friends to his party, and Chris is suspicious of his motives. On investigation, however, is he in over his head?
1. Prologue

_Believe it or not -- and, let's face it, this is me, so not --I actually have this entire thing written. It's all sitting on my hard drive ready to post. Tonight, I'm posting this prologue and Chapter One, and the rest is hopefully to follow if this is well-recieved._

_I'm not sure what this is, to be honest. Random idea that popped into my head and which I wrote. It's set in the future, before Wyatt turns evil, and is slightly AU because Chris is more than fourteen and Piper isnot dead yet. This is just... high school fic with Chris and his friends, or what I think of as his friends. Originally, I wasn't going to post it, because it was just for fun, but then my Beta, who, by the way, I love, thought that it would be worth posting. So here it is._

_I'd say enjoy, but I fear that that's presumptious, so just... Take a look. Or not. Heh._

**_Twisted Flame_**

* * *

**Prologue**

"Guess what I just heard?"

Bridget turned, tucking escapee black hair behind her ear angrily. Nixa was standing at her elbow, practically vibrating with excitement, pressing her lips together to hide a smile but failing to do so. It was spilling out both in the upturn of her mouth and the dancing of her blue eyes. She jumped a little on the spot, the loose curls that her blonde hair was fixed in today bouncing up and down.

"Okay, this is taking perky way to far," Bridget informed her stonily, tiredly arching an eyebrow and fixing her with a bored, brown gaze. "_This_ much too far." She demonstrated by holding out her hands a little wider than her body. When she was done with the visual aiding she tossed some books back into her locker, glad to be rid of them.

"Guess!"

"You're actually starting to scare me," Bridget said warily, eyeing her friend up and down. This wasn't just bubbly. This was something way past bubbly. This was bubblier than a kid gone insane with dish soap in a Jacuzzi.

She'd done that once, okay? Once. They didn't have to _keep_ taking it out on her.

Nixa rolled her eyes as Bridget slammed her locker shut in answer and started walking down the hall. The blonde hurried after her, readjusting the strap of her bag with her thumb to try and disperse some of the weight in it. "You have to _guess_," she said again impatiently, catching up with Bridget and falling into step next to her.

Bridget groaned, resigning herself to not being able to get away from Nixa's guessing game and came up with both the best and most extravagant scenario that she could think of. "The cafeteria exploded?"

Nixa shook her head tightly. "Better. Way better."

Bridget stopped walking and looked at her, cocking her head, a sudden interest in the game catching her now. "Huh. O…kay… Principal Minch exploded. Please, _please _say that happened?"

"Can't you think of anything else but violence and explosions?" Nixa asked, exasperation creasing her face as she almost stamped her foot with frustration.

Bridget huffed, walking back down the hall, dodging past people in the crowded space. "Fine. There was this… cute little bunny rabbit. And it was soft and furry and had a twitchy nose and a fluffy tail." She paused as someone knocked into her, her immediate reaction to spin on her heel and try to see who it was. She couldn't pick anyone out in the throng so she sighed and took out the tie holding her ponytail in place, putting it into her mouth so she could redo it. She turned back to Nixa and told her in a muffled voice, "And then it exploded."

"Nothing exploded! I'll just tell you," Nixa said as they stopped next to Ben and Chris.

Chris was rooting through his locker. "You'll tell her what?" he asked, only semi-curious, more intent on finding the book that his locker had eaten.

"Apparently something exploded," Ben said with a shrug, closing his own locker and leaning against it, searching them both with hazel eyes for an explanation.

"If one more person says something exploded, _I'll_ explode," Nixa warned dangerously, before turning to Bridget. "Josh Muse. Pool party. Friday."

"_Josh_ Muse?" Bridget asked.

"Uh-huh."

"Hm…" Bridget said, smiling slightly. "I see…"

Chris pulled a face as his locker threatened to eat his entire arm. "Why is his last name Muse? He's too stupid to inspire anyone."

Bridget smiled almost dreamily. "Trust me. He makes up for it."

Ben snorted. "How?"

"By looking like that," Nixa murmured, gesturing to Josh.

Ben stuck his fingers down his throat and pretended to vomit as Josh rounded the corner. Bridget smacked him on the arm. Hard. Harder than she looked like she could be able to hit, which was totally an unfair advantage to her.

"Ow!" he complained good-naturedly, his standard knee-jerk reaction to being hit by Bridget. It came out even without thinking about it now, what with the amount of times a day Bridget pummelled one of his biceps

"Quit whining," Bridget snapped as Chris finally slammed his locker closed, dragging out the required book from its dark depths.

Josh stopped at the top of the hall and his group stopped too, practically blocking the entire corridor. But that only made the group of cheerleaders and various jocks in their usual predictable gaggle look bigger as they forced the traffic in the corridor to navigate their bottleneck.

"Why are you so bothered, anyway?" Chris asked, trying to cram the book into his bag any which way it would fit. "It's not like he's actually going to invite you. We're part of the 'Undesirables' remember? The ones the velvet ropes are for?"

"For some reason, people think we're freaks," Ben agreed, still rubbing his bruised bicep absently. He shifted the pile of books he had in his arms to do so. "Can't work out why."

Bridget looked him up and down. "_I_ can think why," she said dryly.

"Could it be your attitude, tendency towards black, your obsession with weapons and your pathological inability to be _nice_ to anyone?" Ben shot back immediately.

Bridget gave him a long hard stare. It was The Stare that frightened strangers and small children but, of course, had no effect on Ben whose own eyes twinkled with amusement. The Hunter swung her bag into his leg and he dodged out of the way. The bag slammed into the lockers with a loud metallic clang.

"God, what have you _got_ in there?" Chris asked, looking at the bag.

"Put your hand in and find out," Bridget deadpanned.

"Ah. Her favourite pickup line. I bet she says that to all the guys," Ben said.

Bridget turned to him with her hand raised and the witch shied away from the blow that was about to come, but the Hunter lowered her hand. "Nope. I'm not going to hit you. I'm going to rise above it all because I know that I'm better than you." She crammed her hand firmly into her pocket. "Yup. I don't need to be a wiseass and I have better dress sense than you could ever have. See? Better than you."

"Don't forget, when he says a rhyme, magic happens," Nixa reminded her absently, wondering if she was looking in Josh's direction too obviously.

Bridget narrowed her eyes. "Maybe we should gag him." Ben wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Or take out his tongue."

"I think he's going to come over here," Nixa said breathlessly, grabbing Bridget's arm without looking at her, focussing solely on Josh.

Bridget grabbed the blonde's wrist and pulled it off, shoving it back down to Nixa's side. "Super strength. _Please_ stop forgetting that."

"You can't blame me for being excited," Nixa said, turning to her and wondering if Bridget _was_ going to blame her for being excited. She smiled uncertainly. "Aren't you?"

Bridget shrugged. "It's a dumb party. There'll be drinks laced with God knows what and people making out in the hot tub. I'd have more fun killing something."

"Did I not tell you that it's a _pool party_?"

"Yeah…" Bridget said, not following. She cocked her head to one side with her eyes narrowed, Nixa's train of though completely lost to her.

"Two words," Nixa said, grinning. "Swimming. Trunks."

Bridget made an understanding noise, Nixa's grin finding its way onto her lips. "Ah… Which day did you say this party was again?"

"Oh, come on. You're both shallow enough to let ants wade through you," Chris told them tiredly, leaning against his locker. He folded his arms across his chest and shifted so that the corner of one of his books wasn't stabbing him in the spine.

"And how," Bridget said, smiling wickedly and pulling her ponytail tighter.

"He's not going to invite you," Chris warned for the second time, sounding almost singsong. "He'll remember the time you set the sprinklers off and wandered around school with fire axes looking for a demon. Of course, to everyone else it just looked like you were walking around in the sopping wet with fire axes."

"The demon was weak against water," Bridget said, as if it justified her actions. "And besides. Where were _you_ when that was all happening? We were hunting the demon, as we always do. You know, what destiny gave us our powers for?" She wound her hair tie tighter.

"Is this going to be a long guilt trip?" Ben asked. "Because I didn't go to the bathroom before we left."

"Don't forget, we got a special mention for it. We were 'thoughtful students who risked their own lives in an attempt to save their beloved school'," Nixa quoted. "So nyah."

"Fine! Or the time you were crawling through the ducts which _gave way,"_ Ben put in. "Didn't you crush the Homecoming Queen? Josh's _girlfriend?"_

"I only broke her wrist," Nixa dismissed with a casual wave of her hand. "And if she actually ate more than half a cucumber slice a day she would have had something to protect her bones anyway. Her fault. Not mine."

"Please don't tell me that that was the defence that won your court case," Ben said. "Because, suddenly, I've lost all faith in the justice system."

Nixa rolled her eyes and used her thumb to shift the strap of her bag again as Chris picked up on the tag team.

"Okay, how about the time—"

"Sh!" the Hunters hissed as one.

Both Ben and Chris thought at the same time that had there been any bushes nearby, they both would have been shoved into them. As it was there were only the metal lockers behind them to lean against and exchange smiles as Josh came down the hall. He was so going to pass them by. While some of his cheerleaders in the herd would sneer and smirk and perhaps throw in the odd, 'Freak'. The usual day for them. Not that Chris actually disliked being an oddity. It meant he didn't have to be false to attempt to cram himself in like a cylinder into the square hole. He was happy enough being himself, thank you very much, and all of the Josh Muses in the world weren't going to change that.

Bridget turned and gave them both a final death glare that warned them to be quiet and then turned and feigned conversation with Nixa.

"I didn't realise we'd become such a liability," Ben commented, watching the group come closer.

"Maybe we're just bigger freaks that we thought?"

"I like to think that they're the freaks for not being able to move things with their minds or turn things to ice."

This time, both Bridget and Nixa turned and glared, almost exasperatedly but also pleadingly. The glare in stereo was a little more intimidating than the glare in mono, but both of the witches were too used to it now to react all that much. They understood, however, that those glares meant stop the weird talk now. Or else. And an unidentified threat was something that _did_ intimidate them.

Ben pretended to be interested in shuffling the books in his arms around. He needed a bigger backpack. Or maybe he could just toss some of the old stuff out of his existing one. That might work… although he didn't know what he'd find lurking at the bottom.

"It's Nina, right?"

Ben looked up, so surprised that he nearly dropped his Trig book. Josh had actually stopped by them. Perhaps he'd got a freak vaccine from somewhere?

"Uh, yeah. Hi."

"Apparently, she's so shocked that we were wrong she's forgotten her own name," Chris whispered to Ben, gesturing to the star struck Nixa.

Ben snickered. "This could be good," he hissed back.

"And, uh—"

"Bridget," the black-haired teenager cut in before Josh got _her_ name wrong and she had to murder him. "It's Bridget."

Josh looked kind of startled at the sudden, brutal address and Nixa's breath hitched in her throat, praying that Bridget hadn't blown it. She put on her best winning smile and said, "Did you want something?"

He smiled back at her and she felt her own widen and become more genuine. She tilted her head slightly to one side and played with a strand of her hair, twisting it a little around her fingers to emphasise the curl in it.

He blinked and then grinned some more, delving into his bag and pulling out two blue, pre-printed invitations and held them up, fanning them out. "I'm having a party on Friday. Do you want to come?"

Bridget looked past Josh at the bored cheerleaders snapping gum and looking disgusted at him for inviting them and smirked, immediately snatching the invites from his hand fast enough for her arm to be a blur. She didn't register the speed that she had used and looked down at the invites momentarily before smiling up at him, the thrill of actually having one up on the cheerleaders giving her a head rush. "We'd love you. To."

He blinked again, his mouth slightly open. Nixa could and did count each of his dazzling teeth before he closed it again and smiled. Wow. He had a lot of them… "Great. My place at eight."

"We'll be there."

Ben and Chris exchanged eye rolls as Bridget and Nixa turned around. Bridget was still clutching the invitations tightly in her fist and Nixa was about to squeal when Josh turned around and spoke.

"Oh, Halliwell. Olsen. Didn't see you there."

Ben and Chris both looked up and frowned at Josh, their suspicions aroused. Civil pleasantries were not something often exchanged between them. Scratch that — never. Ben looked him up and down and hid a sneer. If somehow Josh had hit his head really hard and was going to invite them to the party then he wouldn't go anyway, and he was pretty sure Chris wouldn't either. Why bother?

It was probably to turn around and laugh at them or something. And sure enough, Josh shoved Ben lightly back into the lockers and slapped his hand on the books in the witch's hands, sending them tumbling to the floor. Ben sagged with annoyance and the sheer cliché of it all, rolled his eyes and sighed, making no effort to pick them up.

"Whoops," Josh said, sticking his face into Ben's and smirking.

"Huh. Just so we're clear: this is the tough guy, Josh, right?" Ben asked, feigning sincerity. "Because I'd hate to get him confused with jerk Josh and moron Josh."

Chris looked down and moved his foot, Ben's Trig book falling from his sneaker. "Wow. You really are a clumsy loser, aren't you?" Chris said. "I would have though all that dancing around on the baseball field would have done something about that."

Josh's eyes narrowed and he turned to Chris. "Just for that, Halliwell, you don't get an invite to the party."

Chris gave a short laugh and then scoffed. "You weren't going to invite us anyway. It would be bad for your image."

Josh shrugged and laughed, and his claque laughed as well. "True," he said. "But you would have come anyway _begging_ to be accepted if I had invited you, though."

"I wouldn't come to a party of yours if you paid me," Ben said. "Oh, and you have spinach stuck in your teeth. Right there." He pointed to Josh's mouth and the jock reared back, scrubbing the general area with a finger until they could hear squeaking. "Oh. My bad. It was just your tooth," Ben deadpanned.

Josh's eyes narrowed. "Remember, you may have grown up a little bit, but I could still shove both of your skinny asses in a locker. The _same_ locker," he was hissing now, his lip curled.

Ben shuddered involuntarily, hoping it was light enough for Josh not to notice. He bent to collect his books, feeling the metal walls of the locker closing in on him as he struggled to breathe… He closed his eyes, willing the claustrophobic thoughts away by reminding himself of the enormity of the hallway that he was standing in. He retrieved the last textbook and he stood up straight again, more composed.

"Is my ass really that skinny?" Chris wondered, trying to get a look. "And there's me thinking I'd been working out. Nice of you to look and warn me though, Josh. Thanks."

Josh snarled and walked off, shoving Ben and Chris backwards into the lockers and striding down the hall, pulling more invites from his bag.

Ben saluted at his retreating back. "Ah, now _there's _a prince and a half for you."

* * *

_Thank you for getting this far. The next chapter is up already, if you want to read on._


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

"Don't you think that, maybe, if you were a little _nicer _to him things would go easier?" Nixa asked, starting to walk down the hall.

"He was jerk first. And, by the way, thanks for being on our side," Chris said, pushing forward from the locker and starting down the hall towards Nixa's retreating back.

"We tried that once, remember?" Nixa reminded him, as he fell into step next to her.

"Yeah. Apparently it made you look "unmanly," Bridget chimed in with, making the quote marks in the air and, as Ben came up beside her, pausing before going on, "well, even more than usual. What does that even _mean_, anyway?"

"You wouldn't get it," Chris told them, shoving the door to the quad open.

"Nah," Ben said, following them outside. "It just isn't a girl thing. Speaking of girl things, shouldn't you both be running off to the mall sometime soon to buy new bikinis?"

Bridget scoffed and wrinkled her nose. "Bikinis? Pfft."

"Josh only invited you because you'd look half good in a bikini," Ben explained, as if he were talking to a small child. "Because, hell, it sure wasn't your charm that got you those two pieces of paper clutched in your clammy palm."

"Really?"

"Really."

"I don't _own_ a bikini," Bridget said, disheartened. "Why would I want one?"

"He probably has it somewhere in a dress code," Chris said. "Which, by the way, doesn't exist if you come to the Manor."

"No dress code for the Manor?" Nixa scoffed disbelievingly. "The dress code for the Halliwell house is full combat gear and as many weapons as you can carry."

Chris blinked and looked a little sad. Is that what his friends felt like when they came over? That they were in constant danger of being attacked? That they didn't feel safe unless they had more weapons than a small country strapped to them? "Really?"

"No, Chris. Not really. We _always_ go out dressed to kill," Nixa said, missing the expression as she scouted for a table.

"Whatever Bridget's wearing makes her dressed to kill," Ben mumbled, managing to dodge nimbly out of the way of Bridget's unsuspected blow but diffuse the situation. "Compliment!" he yelled indignantly, holding his hands up in surrender and laughing. "It was a compliment!"

"What happened to you rising above hitting him?" Chris asked slyly.

"I got so scared of the height I fell off," Bridget informed them, tossing her bag through the air onto the bench of a vacant table to snag it before anyone else got any ideas. She reached the table first and kicked her bag onto the floor, sitting down and lying across the tabletop on her arms with her eyes closed, sighing lightly as the sun shone across her features.

"Ouch," Ben said. "Did you bounce?"

"Somebody hit him," Bridget mumbled sleepily. "It's hot and I'm tired."

"Well, you'd better grab some caffeine," Nixa said, prodding her awake. "Because we need to get you a bikini after school." The blonde narrowed her eyes a little in thought. "I think I can see you in something pink, with a buckle. Halter neck. Hee. Shopping rush."

Bridget looked up. "Huh. Then you need to get some glasses. We'll stop off at the eye doctor as well. I see something… round with wire frames. We could get a chain for you to hang them on! Whoa… you're right. Shopping rush."

"You're getting a bikini," Nixa said in a final tone, the one that her mother usually told her that she was not allowed a tattoo in, and ignoring Bridget's crack about her getting glasses that the school's seventy-something librarian wore.

"Where am I going to keep an athame in a bikini?" Bridget whined, recognising Nixa's tone but frowning anyway. "I don't _want_ a bikini. I've gone all these years without one."

"You're _not_ taking an athame anywhere near Josh's party," Nixa told her severely. "Seriously." The blonde, worried that she was overdoing this mothering thing, straightened out her forehead, not particularly wanting Botox before she was thirty because needles plus poison just equalled ow.

Bridget huffed but then nodded after catching Nixa's look. "Okay, okay! No athames at Josh's party. "Girl Scout's honour."

"'Girl Scout'?" Ben asked, snorting disbelievingly. "Where did you put your cookies?"

"I know where I'm _going _to put them," Bridget shot back pointedly, only eliciting harder laughter from Ben.

"Are you guys mad that we got invited?" Nixa asked, mainly to break off Bridget and Ben's verbal battle because, without her intervention, it would have gone on all lunch. She wound a loose threat from her bag around her fingers and snapped it off before it could unravel anymore and fixed the witches with a concerned, blue-eyed stare.

"Uh, lemme think… No?" Ben said. "Really. On a scale of one to ten of how bothered I am? I'd say about minus four thousand. It's not a big deal."

"Apparently he just doesn't think we can pull off bikinis," Chris said with a smile and a shrug.

"Hey, speak for yourself," Ben said, diving into his bag to see if he'd remembered to bring something to eat. "I've got a great beach body."

"Oh, good grief," Nixa grumbled, scooting further away from Ben. "Bridget, we need to get ourselves some less geeky friends. _Now_."

"Would a less geeky friend be, oh, I don't know _Josh_?" Ben asked innocently, finding an apple that had seen better days and wrinkling his nose, tossing it at the trash can. It hit the rim and shattered, spraying rotten fruit everywhere. Ben didn't notice.

"Yes," Bridget said immediately. "Yes, he would definitely count as a less geeky friend."

"Anyway, I thought we were freaks and not geeks," Chris mused. "Or has our status changed?"

"Splitting hairs," Bridget said shortly, finally letting go of the invitations and laying them out on the table. She tried to smooth them flat but the thin cardboard was rumpled and creased from where she had held them in her fist.

"It looks like we were desperate enough to fish them out of a trash can," Nixa fretted, scowling at them as if it would make them flatten out.

"You _were_ desperate enough to fish them out of a trash can," Chris reminded her, opening his own bag. He'd wrapped pizza from the fridge in Clingfilm this morning to eat for lunch. Any junk food in the house was worth savouring and he had made sure his first morning task had been to snag the last slice.

"That's not the point," Nixa told him, her eyes narrowing as she slid a Tupperware container filled with salad from her bag. There was a fork concealed behind a clear sliding plastic piece in the lid. "Are you actually going to _eat_ that, Chris?"

Chris looked down at his pizza. The topping was a little smeared across the clear plastic, but otherwise it was fine. He looked back up at her, confused. "Yeah… Why?"

"It looks like a truck ran over it."

The witch-whitelighter rolled his eyes. "It's been in my bag." He stopped and thought. "Which is the equivalent of being run over by a truck, I guess."

"It's still not good for you."

"No! Stop with the healthy eating lectures! You sound like my mother. Look, it has vegetables on it, okay?"

"Where?"

"Tomato paste is a vegetable," Ben said, touching on something wrapped in tinfoil.

"It's a fruit," Bridget corrected him.

Ben pulled a face. "Whatever."

"It's _barely_ a fruit," Nixa said, spearing a square of chicken and then some lettuce with her fork.

"I don't care. This is the backup to Aunt Paige's cooking. And it's good. So nyah." He poked his tongue out at her and unwrapped the pizza, biting into it.

"What did she try to make this time?" Ben asked, finding some sandwiches hidden under the foil. He prodded them and the bread was still soft so he peeled off the top slice and looked at it. Peanut butter. It would do.

"I don't know. But it was blue."

"Ooh. Yum," Ben said sarcastically, biting into his sandwich. It tasted okay. Maybe he'd packed it that morning and forgotten?

"And you," Nixa said, pointing at the sandwich with her fork. "What is that?"

"It's a peanut butter sandwich," Ben said, holding it out and looking at it from different angles. "At least, last time I checked. Why?"

"It looks like it's about two years old," Nixa said with distaste, stabbing a tomato and some cucumber and bringing them to her mouth.

Ben didn't answer her, just took another bite, chewed, and swallowed defiantly as Nixa huffed at their lack of concern for their diet and tilted the container to drizzle dressing down one side of her salad.

"Does anyone have two bucks?" Bridget asked, looking at them hopefully.

"You still owe me eighteen dollars," Ben said, shaking his head. "Nope."

"Chris?" she asked, the wheedling in her voice emphasised by a hopeful pout.

Chris sighed and rolled his eyes. "Uh…" The witch-whitelighter delved into the pocket of his jeans and felt some loose change there. He grabbed it all and pulled it out, slamming it down on the table. He counted it quickly by shoving it about with his finger. "I have… a dollar and nineteen cents."

Nixa frowned. "Is that all? There's got to be more than that there." She looked at the large pile of coins. A couple of them had some fluff stuck to them and she pulled a face, picking it off and sprinkling it onto the ground next to the table.

"Nope," Chris told her with a shake of his head. "I may not get the grades you do but I _can_ count."

The blonde counted it for herself, simply not believing that the sheer volume of coins on the Formica top could add up to anything less than three dollars. One nineteen. She sat back down and sniffed. "Fine." She reached into her bag and rummaged about, pulling out two one dollar bills and handing them to Bridget. "But you owe me like twenty bucks now."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Bridget said, waving a dismissive hand. "I know, I know. I'm practising for my student loan sharks." She suddenly put on a very sincere, confused and apologetic face. "What do you mean my transaction didn't go through? I transferred all the money yesterday. Oh no, I can't think of what might've happened to it."

Ben applauded and put his thumb and middle finger in his mouth and whistled loudly. Most of the population of the quad turned to look at the source of the noise.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" Bridget asked, never for a second denying that she didn't want the attention. She took the money and stood up, putting it down her top. "Geek."

"_Freak,"_ Ben reminded her with mock anger. "Can't you get anything right?"

Bridget cocked an eyebrow at him. "Benny, darling, you to-may-toe, I say ew, gross. What is with people and actually _eating_ those things?" And with that, she walked off towards the cafeteria.

* * *

All ideas welcome.

_Twisted Flame._


	3. Chapter 2

**_Hee! Thanks for all of your reviews! Giddy now._**

**Chapter Two**

Ben rolled his eyes and slumped down in his seat, drumming his fingers on the wheel. He checked his mirrors again. There were two jerks parked behind him in the middle of the car park, one facing one way and one facing the other, leaning out of their open windows and talking to each other.

He leant on the horn for the second time, but this time he was flipped off in stereo and he gritted his teeth, counting slowly to ten. He was sick of all of the morons in this stupid school. And now, when all he wanted to do was go home and get away from the idiots at this dump, two prime examples were blocking him in. There were cars of either side of him as well, so his only hope of escape would be backing the Freelander out of its space. But some losers had decided that the middle of the car park would be a good place to stop and have a chat. Perfect. He could now say his day was officially made.

He looked down and bumped the car out of reverse and into neutral, pressing down on the accelerator. The engine gave a satisfying throaty roar but didn't take him anywhere and he looked in his mirror to check the effect it had had on the two people in their cars. Convertible cars, German imports by the looks of it. He mused momentarily how it was odd how the people with most money often had the least manners and sighed again, revving the engine for longer and longer bursts.

After what seemed like forever, one of them got out of their car and slammed the door, heading purposefully in Ben's direction. The witch realised that it was Josh and growled in the back of his throat, throwing his hands up in the air. Could this day get much worse? He just wanted to go _home._ He promised he'd meet Chris so his friend could share his ride home. Chris's car had been out of commission since Phoebe had somehow backed down the drive into it.

Josh tapped on the window with his knuckle and Ben gave him a blank look, then smiled and waved before reverting back to ignoring him. Josh tapped harder and Ben hit the button next to him, the motor whining as it wound the window down.

"Yes?" Ben said tiredly as Josh leaned in the window.

"Do you have some kind of problem?" Josh asked, getting close to Ben's face.

"Well, actually, now you mention it, just in case you haven't noticed, you're blocking me in," Ben said. "Although something tells me you already know that."

"It's not like you have anywhere to go, anyway," Josh said, laughing.

"I don't have time to argue with you. I'm sure you have to go home and floss and stuff. You know, do the essential things in life? So if you could move your car, then I'll be gone. And I won't be bugging you anymore."

"We're talking."

"That's very good, Josh. Yes, we are."

"I don't mean to you, dipshit," Josh said, sneering.

"Really? Aw." Ben gave a mock pout. "Well, that is a shame. I'm hurt. Right here." The witch put a fist over his heart to demonstrate.

Josh backed away disgustedly. "I can't talk to you," he said, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. "You're just…"

"Amazingly good-looking?"

Josh snorted. "No. You're just—"

"Side-splittingly witty?"

"NO! Do you ever shut up?"

Ben pretended to think. "Well, as they say. I am rubber, you are glue. Whatever bounces off of me sticks to you. Maggot. Now move your car, because I'd really, really like to go home."

"What? That didn't answer my question."

"No? Huh, that's a shame. You didn't move your car."

"Seriously, it's no wonder you have like no friends. You're such a snarky reject."

"Thanks, man. Come back when you have news for me, though, Josh. Preferably with a scrolling 'Breaking News' banner," he added as an afterthought. "That'd be good."

Josh threw his hands up in the air and turned away from Ben's car, stalking off to his own car and jamming it into drive. He said a few more words to his friend before driving off, his tyres squealing a little and his engine roaring, just as his friend did the same in his car in the opposite direction.

"Finally!" Ben cheered, moving into reverse and backing out of the space and driving to the front of the school to meet Chris.

Chris was already there, leaning on the flagpole. He was the only one about, and Ben hoped that Chris hadn't thought that he had abandoned his best friend. It was always odd, being in school after practically everyone had gone home and the building had gone silent. It was unnatural.

Chris was staring off into the distance, obviously deep in thought about something and didn't see or hear Ben pull up. Or if he did, he didn't register it and continued to look off into space, frowning a little.

Ben laughed and hit the horn. Chris jumped at the two short bursts of noise and, seeing Ben, bent to collect his schoolbag at his feet and slung it over his shoulder, making his way towards the four-by-four.

"Take your time, why don't you?" Chris groused lightly, getting in and tossing his bag into the backseat before slamming the door.

Ben put his foot on the accelerator and the engine leapt and propelled them forwards and away from the quasi-ghostly building behind them. "Sorry. I got held up by our favourite person in the entire world."

"Principal Minch?"

Ben's eyebrows flicked up and down as he indicated, turning out of the school and onto the road. "Is he our favourite person in the entire world?" he wondered, looking briefly over at Chris.

"I'm guessing not," the witch-whitelighter replied. "Who was it?"

"Dear old Josh," Ben grumbled, reaching down and turning on the radio. It came on lightly in the background.

"Ah, yes. Yes, he is definitely our most favourite person in the whole wide world," Chris muttered, sounding odd enough for Ben to call him on it as they stopped at a set of red traffic lights.

"What's up?"

"Huh?"

"You know you pretty much suck at lying, right?"

Chris sighed and rolled his eyes. "Just thinking about Bridget and Nixa. I mean, have they lost their minds? I don't get it. Why would they want to go to a stupid party thrown by _Josh Muse?_ It doesn't make sense to me."

"They go all weak-kneed where he's concerned, and out come the rose coloured glasses. Or, you know, whatever colour will match Nixa's outfit that day. Anyway, they're too busy looking at him to notice that he's a jerk," Ben consoled, jamming his foot on the accelerator as soon as the light turned green and, rapidly changing up gears, sped away from the junction.

"I still don't get it," Chris said, looking at the gear stick. "How can a guy that can't work a _blender_ manage to work out how to drive a stick?"

"Blenders are complicated," Ben said simply, shrugging and tapping his fingers on the wheel in time with the song.

"Why? There's, like, three buttons."

"Therein lies the complication," Ben said, grinning. "Nice completely unrelated tangent, though. You nearly had me going there."

Chris fell silent again, but was unable to ignore his friend looking at his expectantly. "Fine. Basically, I'm just feeling a little weirded out by how high they're willing to jump to please him when he's around, but then when he goes away…"

"You're reading too much into it, buddy. They've got a crush on him; they go all misty-eyed when he comes near. End of story."

"Bridget's buying a _bikini_ to please him," Chris pressed, leaning his elbow on the door and propping his chin up with his hand.

"From the impression I got, she was being manhandled and _forced_ to buy a bikini to please him," Ben said, smiling. He paused and frowned a little, indicating and turning off. "Come to mention it, Bridget being forced into doing something she doesn't want to do _is_ way out of character for her. But then, on the other hand, you know what Nixa's like."

Chris smiled and gave a short, fond laugh. "Yeah…" He paused, listening to the radio for a while. "Okay, let's never do this again."

"What?" Ben asked, his eyes flicking from the road to Chris and back again several times, blinking in between tarmac and Chris's smirk.

"Have you as the rational one. It's terrifying."

Ben laughed and then gasped, mock hurt. "Ha, ha. And ha. I _knew_ I should have made you walk home. I'm plenty rational. Well, when I want to be at least."

The jeep jolted as it mounted the kerb outside the Manor. Ben put the handbrake on, parking but leaving the engine idling.

"Thank you, Jeeves," Chris said, unbuckling his seatbelt and leaning over into the back of the car to retrieve his bag.

"You're really mean to me, you know," Ben commented. "Remind me why I put up with you again?"

Chris got out and slammed the door, and Ben pushed the switch for the passenger-side window.

"I think it's more that no one else will put up with _you_," Chris told his friend, smirking again. "Do you wanna come in?"

Ben looked at the clock on the dash and shrugged. "Sure. Why not?" He bumped the car into neutral and turned the engine off, removing the keys and then realising that Chris was leaning in the open window. He cursed lightly and put the keys back in, turning them enough to wind up the window before removing them all over again, getting out and locking the doors behind him with the remote. Chris was already halfway up the Manor's drive and Ben jogged to catch up with him.

"Hey?" Chris called to the empty entryway, tossing his bag through the doorway to his right onto the living room couch. "Anyone home?" He dumped his keys on the table and walked into the seemingly deserted house.

Ben looked around and smiled. He liked the Manor. A lot. Sure, it was a dangerous place to be a lot of the time, but that outweighed the feeling of the place. It was clear beyond any doubt that there was power here. The house almost breathed it. Chris may complain constantly that there wasn't enough room, let alone hot water, but Ben could definitely adjust to living here. It had a calming effect, the house. He liked the way everything seemed to be ordered chaos as well. The Manor seemed lived-in. He was pretty sure that it was a lot more lived-in than Piper would like, but a large family lived here. Tidiness would be impossible. In short, the house was warm and welcoming.

He was standing in the parlour with his hands in his pockets, staring vaguely at the chandelier above him when Chris came back from the kitchen shrugging his shoulders.

"Are they in the attic?" Ben asked.

"Might be. Um… Wyatt has some kind of practice after school today so he'll be home later. Xander's getting the bus home, and I _think _Patience was orbing Prue and Phoebe off to New York before she came home. Something to do with the divorce papers? I don't know. And… Uncle Alex will be at work and so will Paige. Mom might've gone out to do some grocery shopping or something."

"I'm surprised any of the Elders can keep track of your family, let alone watch over them."

Chris snorted. "Well, it's not like they ever do much else," he said bitterly. "They have plenty of time on their hands, trust me." The statement was so much like his mother that Ben smiled.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Chris put a foot on the staircase. "They're probably in the attic. I've gotta ask Aunt Phoebe when the garage said my car was going to be fixed, anyway. If she's here, that is."

"I still can't believe she did that," Ben said, smiling. "How hard is it to see a car in your mirror?"

"Tell me about it," Chris said dryly as Ben followed him up the stairs. "Luckily, she said she'd pay for it all. Which is good, because I barely have enough money to keep the thing on the road, let alone to have half the bodywork hammered out straight."

Chris looked briefly to the ceiling and swung around the corner to the attic stairs, bounding up them two at a time. Ben followed at a slower pace, running his hand over the banister as he did so.

"Oh, hey, sweetie," Piper greeted, glancing up from the Book of Shadows. "Hey, Ben."

Ben smiled his hello and watched Phoebe and Paige bicker about how best to scry. It still amused him to find that at least two of the Halliwell sisters had never actually grown up, and yet they were supposed to save the world every other week.

"I'm just saying that it might work better if you used a different crystal. Amethyst or rose quartz or, hell, even garnet. But not _that_ crystal," Paige said, gesturing to it.

"What's wrong with this crystal, Paige?" Phoebe asked, slamming it down on the map in annoyance. "It's worked well enough for us in the past."

"Yes, but I'm telling you that you need the extra power boost. Especially seeing as how we don't know what we're looking for."

"Yes, well I'm telling _you _that that would make the crystal drop down on every evil being running loose in this city. And I for one do not have time to go and vanquish them all," Phoebe sniped back, obstinately picking up the crystal again and letting it circle. "Besides, she's _my_ innocent."

"She's _dead_ Phoebe," Paige returned snappishly, pacing across the attic.

"So? She still feels like my innocent. I had that premonition of her for a reason, you know. It wasn't just so I could work out a date and time to turn up at her funeral."

"What's going on?" Chris asked.

"Demon. Again," Piper informed him, a little wearily. "I'm sorry, Chris, but it looks like I won't have time to cook tonight. Order something quick? Once in a week won't hurt you."

Paige stopped guiltily in her tracks, fumbling accidentally with a potion vial as her widened eyes fixed on Chris pleading with him not to say anything about the disaster that had been dinner last night and the resulting pizza.

She needn't have worried thought, because Chris had covered his aunt's tracks without blinking. "Yeah, sure. It will be good to have some decent food for once."

Piper looked up at him and pursed his lips. "Hm. Make sure you put some veggies on it at least. Vegetable pizza, or bean sprouts, or _something._ Got it?"

Chris saluted dutifully. "Yes ma'am. So what's going on up here, anyway?"

"Phoebe got a premonition off one of her letters," Piper exposited. "A private school girl having… um… being…"

"Getting laid," Paige said shortly.

"Sure, if you _want_ to make her sound like a tramp," Piper said. "Anyway, yeah. But the guy she was with killed her somehow. So Phoebe called us to scry for her, but she saw the master copy of the evening edition before it went into print, and the girl was on the front page. She was found dead in a hotel room."

"Why would a premonition get sent so late?" Ben asked, frowning. "I mean, _after_ the girl was dead? Really useful."

"This is just the latest in a string of similar murders, though," Phoebe explained. "I guess I saw this one because I had to put a stop to whichever demon is doing it before he strikes again."

"_But_, she's looking for it with her old faithful," Paige jumped in with, rolling her eyes and pointing at the crystal dangling from Phoebe's hand. "So she's never actually gonna find him," she ended, more to Phoebe than Chris and Ben. Her voice was singsong and warning.

"You, get scrying," Piper ordered, pointing at Phoebe. "You, zip it," she commanded, pointing at Paige. "I'm going to call Darryl and see what he can get us on the murders. Got it?"

Phoebe smirked and stuck her tongue out at Paige as Piper left. "Told you so."

"_So_ immature," Paige sighed tiredly, shaking her head as she pulled more potion bottles from the shelves of the cabinet.

"You're just jealous," Phoebe said, triumph in her voice, "because I was right and you suck."

"Nuh-uh. I could never be jealous of someone who was scrying with their old nose ring."

"Does anyone else find it disturbing that I'm standing in a room with two of the most powerful witches in the world and I'm the most mature one here?" Ben asked. Phoebe and Paige both looked up at Ben, united by their raised eyebrows. The witch held out his hands and shrugged. "What? It's true! I speak as I find. You're both bickering like you're seven years old."

"Sure, like _I _was seven years old," Paige said slyly. "Phoebe would be more like, oh, I don't know, _thirteen_ at that point, wouldn't you_, big_ sister?"

"Don't try to make out that there's six years between us, Paige," Phoebe said, narrowing her eyes.

"Ah, feeling your age, huh?"

"Definitely worrying, if not disturbing," Chris commented, crossing the room to the potions table, where Paige was setting out ingredients. "So what are we making?"

"Don't you have homework or something?" Paige said, looking over her shoulder. Chris fixed her with a look and she sighed dramatically. "Fine. Just don't tell your mother. We're making your standard demon-B-gone."

Ben smiled as he walked across the room too, leaning on the table. "As long as it doesn't turn into blue soup," he said with a smirk. Paige clipped him upside the head. "Ow!"

"That didn't hurt," Paige said dismissively, her eyes a little narrowed but a wry expression twisting her lips. She looked over to Phoebe. "I think we're going to have to talk long and hard to Chris about who he chooses as friends," she said, her smile the only giveaway that she wasn't being serious. "He can't hang around with this kind of trash all the time, can he, Pheebs?"

"Hm?"

Paige rolled her eyes heavily and began pulling apart a herb. "Going a little deaf in your old age, dear?" she muttered, flicking a small seedpod at her sister.

"Paige!"

The half sister only pointed silently at Ben behind the teenaged witch's back.

"It was her," Ben said immediately, without looking around or stopping his search through the ingredients, earning him another exasperated clip around the head, which he ducked underneath.

"And the burden of most mature falls on me," Chris said, grumbling a little. "Now _that's_ depressing."

_**Monsters of the Deep End**_

"No."

"Come on."

"NO!"

"Do you want me to bust the door down? Because I will."

Bridget sat down on the tiny bench inside the cubicle and snorted. "No, you won't. You would never desecrate the mall like that."

There was a pause, on which Bridget shifted around on the small bench and knocked a coat hanger to the floor accidentally. The plastic clattered against the carpet and she winced until the sound died down, risking a look up at herself in the mirror opposite her. Which showed her reflected in the mirror behind her. Bridget shook her head and ignored the seemingly infinite corridor within the mirrors, preferring not to think about what led around the part where the images seemed to bend and shivered a little. Did they have to have the air-conditioning up so high?

"Okay, so you're right. I won't. But I _can_ call for Chris and have him orb in there and get you. Hell, even having Ben astralling himself in there would be better than nothing."

"You wouldn't dare," Bridget said, but she knew Nixa would, indeed, dare.

"Watch me," Nixa replied stonily, and Bridget could see the blonde out there in her mind, tapping her foot with her arms crossed across her chest, huffing impatiently and looking at her watch.

"Only if you promise not to laugh," Bridget said, sneering at herself for sounding so pathetic. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and secured it there, feeling more naked then ever and shivered again, Goosebumps rising on her arms. She took a deep breath in, checked herself out once more and then slid back the lock.

Leaving her hand on the door to hold it closed for another moment she sucked in her non-existent gut and screwed her eyes tightly closed, stepping out into the corridor in between the two row of changing rooms. Nixa gave an appreciative whistle, and Bridget risked opening an eye.

She had, of course, looked herself up and down, left to right, diagonally and any other why which you could think of, but she wanted to look again now that it was something that was approved of.

The bikini was lilac — they hadn't been able to find anything in pink — and had a buckle to fasten it at Bridget's hip, and another one at her back. The halter straps tied up behind her neck. Slowly, she opened her other eye, looking at Nixa.

"Are you just humouring me?" she asked uncertainly, her face troubled and confused. "Because if you are, well, that's really mean…"

"No!" Nixa reassured immediately, shaking her head hard enough for stands of hair to become dislodged from behind her ears. "No, no and no. Seriously, Bridget. That looks amazing on you. You have to buy it. You _need_ it. There is no way you can live without it."

Bridget rolled her eyes and looked at herself in the mirror at the corridor's dead-end, holding her hair up and revolving around slowly, looking over her shoulder when her back was turned to the mirror. Suddenly, she yelped and dropped her hair, scrabbling at the back of it to try and look at the price tag. She must be seeing things. Seeing things in the mirror backwards must have tricked her.

"What?" Nixa asked worriedly. "What is it?"

"The price tag!" Bridget yelled, causing another shopper to stare.

"Did it stab you in the back? I actually have a scar from this really nasty cardboard cut that I got on my—"

"No! How can they push a bikini up into THREE FIGURES?" Bridget wailed, stabbing her finger at her back and the offending piece of cardboard.

"I think it's Armani," Nixa said absently, momentarily distracted by a pair of boots that one of the shop assistants was wearing. "And you're not seeing the good! The red! Look, money off! It's only like seventy-eight bucks now. Which is… thirty-five percent off! That's a forty-two dollar saving!"

Bridget blinked. "That was some seriously fast math. Shopping turns your brain into a supercomputer."

"If they made all the questions on math tests shopping related, I'd ace them all," Nixa said, with a what-can-you-do shrug, reaching down and picking her purse up from the floor.

"You mean even more than you manage to ace them already?" Bridget asked, turning and walking back into the cubicle to change. Ah, sweet clothes. Clothes that actually covered her and wouldn't get her arrested for indecent exposure. She remembered those… "Hey, wait a minute, how can I have saved forty-two dollars if I've spent seventy-eight? Doesn't that offsets the saving by…"

"Thirty-six dollars, and, no, it doesn't. You've saved thirty-five percent; now change out of it so we can pay."

"But… but how can I save if I've spent?" She got a glare from Nixa and huffed. "You know, I already knew math was sick and twisted. I didn't know that there was another branch of it used especially for shopping that was even worse."

_**Monsters of the Deep End**_

"I thought the party wasn't until Friday?" a blonde cheerleader purred, tilting her head and twirling a strand of hair around her fingers, giving a fake disapproving look and a small giggle. "What's with the early celebrations?"

"I just thought you'd like to see the place before you came," her companion replied, sprawled on a leather recliner.

"I've been seeing it since we were in kindergarten," the blonde said, smiling almost predatorily and crossing the room, expertly managing her heels.

"What about my parents' room? They have a _really _big bed…"

"Oh yeah? How big?"

"Do you want to take a look? It's really comfortable."

"Well, I suppose it couldn't hurt, right?" she vamped, tracing her fingers lightly across his chest and licking her lips. "I could get some good… design ideas."

"Yeah, design ideas," he said getting up off the chair and grabbing her arms, kissing her deeply. They broke apart and he smirked. "I hear blue is totally in this year." He led the way through the darkened house, manoeuvring through the furniture with ease, the blonde with slightly less ease. She tripped over twice, once over the coffee table and once over a footstool, not as used to the placement of the furniture as he was. Consequently, he was gone by the time she got into the foyer where the stairs were.

"Josh?" she called. The sun had set now; it was a very dark and eerie twilight now. The last of the sun's orange rays were seeping through the windows, forcing the furniture to cast lengthy shadows that leered at her from across the room. "Josh?" This was stupid. Why was she scared? Josh had probably just gone ahead upstairs. Plus, she'd been here before. There were light switches on the wall by the door. She crossed the room in deliberate strides, not remember to skirt around an end table with a vase on it. She managed to steady it before it fell.

Suddenly someone grabbed her, hard, from behind. She squealed and turned before forcing herself to calm down. "Josh!" she berated, smacking his arm. A rough arm. A scaly arm. She screamed loudly, trying to fight the creature off. Her acrylic nails pinged off around the room as she clawed at its torso, arms, face, neck, anything she could reach, but it had no effect. She screamed again, her flailing knocking into the table behind her and toppling both it and the vase, shattering the china on the floor. Water sloshed everywhere and the flowers scattered across the rug.

"Josh! Help me, Josh!" she screeched as the creature placed a hand on her head and twisted violently.

Until this point, Josh had been peering through the balustrade at the scene below him, trying to discern what was going on through the darkness. He swallowed hard at the scream, licking his lips and drumming his fingers on the stair he was sitting on nervously. When the demon put his hand on her head, he closed his eyes, but nothing could block out the audible _snap_ and the sound of a body falling. He rested his forehead on his knees as the foyer was lit up bright white. The demon, backed into the shadows around the wall and simply faded away.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

"I think I'm in shock," Bridget mumbled, grasping for Nixa's support as they left the store. Her throat was dry, her voice raspy, her eyes darting unseeingly to and fro. "Please don't tell me I just spent _seventy-five dollars _on two pieces of cloth and a buckle? Pretty please? Tell me it was all a dream?"

Nixa rolled her eyes a little, but then patted Bridget on the arm sympathetically. "It's okay, calm down. Look, we'll get you some ice cream, okay?"

"How much ice cream?"

"A triple scoop. You actually look like you need it."

They stepped onto the escalator in silence, Bridget clutching the bag to her chest as if it was the most precious thing she had ever owned. Upon reaching the top they stepped off into the Food Court and headed straight for the ice cream parlour.

"Someone chocolate-y?" Nixa asked, at once knowing the answer. She handed Bridget the two bags that she had acquired while Bridget had been freaking out over at the cash register and rummaged in her purse, looking for some money.

Suddenly a young man ran at full pelt out of nowhere, long straggly hair flying behind him, his clothes that were too big for him flapping in the wind he was creating. He was unshaven and his pupils were a little dilated. He grabbed the strap of Nixa's purse, snapping it and continuing running, dragging the bag after him.

"HEY! Someone stop that man!" Nixa yelled, stabbing a finger at his retreating back. Everybody in the Food Court turned to watch him run for the down escalator at the other end, but no one got up to stop him. "Oh, for… THAT BAG IS GUCCI, DAMMIT!" Nixa shouted, setting off at a run across the area, vaulting over a couple's table and spilling a soda and a coffee. She kept running, shoving another guy out of her way and sending a burger and fries flying into the air to land on someone's lap, while the fries rained down on a vendor's head.

She had nearly reached the bag snatcher when she saw Bridget streaking along beside her. They both launched themselves at the guy's back, grabbing him around the waist and neck and sending him crashing into the ground. The force of the takedown caused Bridget to overshoot the mark. She hit the floor above the guy's head and skidded on the faux marble, bumping into the Plexiglas barrier between the upper level and the drop to the lower level, narrowly missing tumbling down the escalator.

Nixa, however, had clung on and flipped the guy onto his back. His tooth had pierced his lip, and his mouth was welling blood. Sitting astride him, she punched him in the jaw, knocking him out. She pulled the bag from his limp hand and dangled it distastefully in the air by the broken strap. "_Why _doesn't God want me to have nice stuff?" she groaned, realising that it had torn the seam and was, therefore, a complete right off.

_**Monsters of the Deep End**_

Nixa had driven her car home after school and she and Bridget had got a bus to the mall. The plan was that they would put their purchases in the mall's lockers, do a little hunting and then come back in time for closing time to grab their stuff and head home. However, the lockers were all closed for 'Maintenance Reasons', although what maintenance reason could shut an entire bank of lockers neither of them could fathom.

They were standing on the curb outside the mall, getting ready to walk home. If they saw any demons on the way, then they'd bite the dust, but apart from that they weren't going to be actively hunting. They were both suddenly tired, especially after the stupid mall rent-a-cops had interrogated them for about four years about the bag snatcher, which they had in custody anyway. Besides, it was not practical to hunt demons and lug around shopping, so they had decided not to. A sports car pulled up on the curb.

"Hey, Nina. Hey, Bridget."

He had so many shiny, shiny teeth…

"Hey, Josh," Nixa grinned, stepping closer to the car. "What's up?"

"Nothing. Just, you know, driving around, looking about. The 'rents are gone and will be until two days after the party so, you know, no curfew." He grinned this time, and Bridget felt herself compelled to draw up next to the car as well. "So, where are you going?"

"Well, some people don't have the luxury of no curfew, so home," Nixa said, her tone lightly grumbling.

"You're gonna walk?" Josh's eyebrows went up. "You don't know what's out there."

"We'll risk it," Bridget said with a light shrug. "You never know; they might come off worse."

"Yeah. And we just had life half of Dairy Queen's supply of ice cream so exercise is definitely on the agenda anyway," Nixa told him.

"Oh, you're not gonna give me the fat thing, are you? Seriously, I'm fed up of that from slim, beautiful girls. Trust me; I say you're not fat. Do you want a lift?"

Nixa was lost for words. She tried to say something, but nothing came out. Instead she just smiled and reached up subconsciously to twirl at a strand of hair, laughing a little and making sure he could see her molars right back to the emerging wisdoms. He thought they were beautiful… He had really said that…

"We're fine, don't worry. We'll walk," Bridget said shortly, tugging on Nixa's arm. "We live in totally different directions."

Josh looked momentarily perplexed and then shrugged it off, flashed them his smile again and drove off, his wheels skidding on the road as he sped away.

"What did you do that for? We were gonna be in his _car_," Nixa hissed, wheeling angrily on Bridget. "That would totally mean elevated social status! Don't you get it? Are you trying to make high school even more difficult on purpose?"

Bridget rolled her eyes and started walking down the road, swinging her shopping bag. Nixa, after looking at the intersection that Josh had swung his car around, threw her hands up into the air and stamped off after her friend.

"You didn't answer me," Nixa reminded Bridget, jabbing her in the ribs irritably. "Well?"

"I just didn't feel like it, okay?" Bridget suddenly snapped, spinning round to face Nixa. "I… didn't feel right. I don't know. Is that such a crime? I feel like going hunting, so going hunting is what I'm going to do."

"Hunting? You mean you blew him off to go _hunting_? Why would you do that?"

"Uh, yeah, hey, _newsflash_, Nixa, _it's our job!"_

"'Our job'. Right. Because everything is all about hunting. You can't have a life because you have to go and hunt. Well, if we're _newsflashing_ then let me tell you something. I have a life, dammit! I do! And I try so hard to keep it balanced, and then you go and do that to me! It's not fair; all I want to do is have a little fun once in a while and you decide that going hunting is more important!"

"Oh, well, saving lives or looking at my reflection in his stupidly shiny teeth. Hm…" She motioned with her arms as if she were a set of scales, weighing the options. "Now, let me think; which one _is _more important?"

"But hunting is all you ever do! Don't you ever want to get a life?"

"I _like _to hunt. It makes me feel good that I'm helping people. Apparently, you're too selfish to even think about someone that's not you for once in your pathetic life."

Nixa staggered backwards as if she had been hit. Her eyes froze over as she glared at her friend. "I am not selfish. Don't even think about telling me that I'm selfish," she said in a low voice, shaking her head. "Because that's not fair."

"Isn't it? So, you wouldn't call risking a person's life so you can go and make doe eyes at a hot guy selfish?"

"NO! I didn't _ask _to be a Hunter! I didn't _want _this! I wanted to be normal. I could so much more if it wasn't for this stupid destiny. Everyone at school thinks I'm this total freak because of the things I've had to do for other people. I wanted to get onto the cheerleading squad — and don't look at me like that; I _wanted _too — but I can't because, while I'm good, they _hate _me. It's ruined my life and when, for once, I want to try and do a little damage control on the tattered wreck my life has become, you hate me for it!" Tears were welling up in her eyes, blurring her vision and she rubbed a hand across them and turned on her heel and stalked off in the opposite direction, leaving Bridget standing frozen on the pavement.

_**Monsters of the Deep End**_

Bridget swung her shopping bag wildly into the side of a dumpster as she walked past, wishing that there was something heavier inside it than her bikini so that it would have made a more satisfying sound. She spun on her heel suddenly and gave a war cry, lashing out at the Dumpster with a roundhouse. The side buckled, a black sack of rubbish spilled over its newly dented side. Bridget looked the bag up and down, decided that it was not a worthy opponent and resumed stalking down the alley.

Oh, there better be a demon tonight. A big demon. One that would actually fight her back and piss her off even more than she was already so she could just KILL IT. Nixa wasn't right to say those things. It just… Mad. Very mad. Her shopping bag bumped into her legs as she jogged and she cursed. This was why she hated shopping. It tried to trip you up when you were running away from things like emotional pain and running towards things like killing.

She had hit grass without her realising and the softer thudding of her footsteps startled her enough to stop short for a second. She glowered at the way the situation had made her so jerky, so preoccupied, and was about to continue across the grass when she was hit with a weird déjà vu. Blinking, she took five steps back onto the tarmac and walked forwards again, slower this time, until she hit the grass. The feeling hounded her and she frowned, repeating the motion for a third and fourth time until her eyes alighted on a low, dense bush about ten paces in front of her.

Twisting her mouth in thought she set her bikini down on the grass and shook out her shoulders before tentatively approaching the plant. It was thorny. Brambles gouged chunks of flesh from her hands and arms; even her face. The tough stalks often refused to budge, but, suddenly, thanks to some perseverance, she found what had given her the prickly feeling of five minutes before.

There was the body of a young girl concealed there. Her eyes were glassy and wide, staring up at Bridget unseeingly. Her mouth was slightly agape, smudged lip gloss making them look wobbly and bright pink. All over her body, the veins were bulging out. The veins across her face and chest were deep black like writhing serpents and disappeared and reappeared at her midriff from underneath the flimsy garment she was clad in. He finger nails were short and, oddly, bitten, and there were half crescents of dark grey-green filth underneath them. One had broken down to the quick and congealed brown blood had spread across it. Her wrists were covered with angry defensive bruises and cuts, and there were what appeared to be marks from very long nails all across the side of her head.

Bridget stumbled backwards out of the bush and looked around. Nixa had the cell phone. It was Nixa who had the cell phone, dammit. Why did she think they were useless and annoying? She'd have to find a payphone.

After the money she'd spent on that stupid bikini, she was glad 911 calls were free.

Monsters of the Deep End 

Piper walked into the station, handbag over her shoulder and looked around worriedly for Bridget. She had been surprised when the officer called explaining the situation but had wasted no time. She suddenly spotted Bridget sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest in a chair near an empty desk and immediately went over. The look Bridget gave her tore at her heart. She was so pale and… scared. It was unsettling.

"Are you Piper Halliwell?"

Piper glanced at the officer that suddenly appeared beside her. He was actually kind of scary looking. "Yes. That's me. I'm here to take Bridget home."

"Are you her legal guardian?"

Piper opened her mouth to give some kind of explanation but— "She's my neighbour. My parents aren't home so I'm staying with her," Bridget said softly. The officer looked a little sceptical but nodded. "I just need you to fill out some paperwork and then we'll release her."

It didn't take long and Bridget climbed into the passenger side of the SUV with her bag next to her feet. "Thanks, Mrs. Halliwell."

"Not a problem at all," she smiled kindly and pulled out of the parking lot on the near empty roads. It was around ten at night and it was a weekday. Not many people out. "Are you okay?"

Bridget shrugged. "Just surprised, I guess. It's been a really weird day," she smiled lamely. "Is it okay if I stay over for a little while?" _I don't want to be by myself_ was clearly implied and Piper nodded.

"Of course. Boys are in the attic looking up demons or something or other." She glanced at the clock on the dash and pursed her lips together in slight annoyance. "What they think they're gonna find this late at night is beyond me."

Bridget didn't acknowledge that she'd heard Piper at all, just leant her elbow on the door and her face on her hand and stared out of the window, watching the orange flares of sodium streetlights flick by on the other side of the window.

"What happened?" Piper said, both wanting to plug the yawning silence and letting her curiosity get the better of her.

Bridget sighed and shrugged, sitting back in her seat. "I was walking home though the park and… I found a body of this bitch under a bush and she was all… gross and demonically mutilated and stuff. I mean, I really didn't like her, but she looked so scared. And I freaked. I don't get it. This is routine, this is every day, but somehow… it just wasn't. No one deserves to die like that. No one."

Piper sighed, having seen her own fair share of things that she wished she hadn't over the years. "I know, sweetie. I know."

Monsters of the Deep End 

The amusement of seeing all of the junk upside on the far wall had long-since passed for Ben, but he continued to hang upside down off the attic's couch anyway despite the rhythmic pounding in his ears blasting through his head like the noise an ultrasound made. It had even managed to nearly drown out Chris's frustrated sighs and the crackle of the Book of Shadow's age-dried parchment pages turning.

Ben gave a sigh of his own and righted himself by pushing off the couch and onto the floor. He landed in a slight tangle of limbs and with a definite thud. All of the blood that had accumulated in his head rushed back down into the rest of his body, and he immediately felt dizzy. "Okay, so remind me. What are we looking for?"

Chris frowned and squinted a little at the Book, bending down so that his nose was nearly touching the pages. "Uh-huh?"

Ben smirked at Chris's absorption and continued, "I broke my leg today."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. In four places. One of them was a compound fracture. It skewered some dude as it broke through the skin."

Chris turned a page and found that two were stuck together. As he set about ungumming them, trying carefully not to tear the thin paper he answered, "Yeah…?"

"Yup. In fact, the passer-by my femur jabbed was the Source of All Evil come back to kill us. Don't worry, though. My snapped leg bone nailed him through the heart."

"Really?"

Ben rolled his eyes tiredly and sunk his fingers into a throw pillow next to him, lifted it and hurled it across the room at his friend. It struck him in the chest and sent him staggering backwards, surprised, so that he tripped over his own feet and landed on his ass.

"What was that for!" the witch-whitelighter demanded, glaring at the cushion and then at Ben before grabbing it and throwing it back.

"You weren't listening to a word I was saying!" Ben said, batting the cushion out of the air and onto the floor next to him.

"I was!" Chris protested, getting up and dusting himself off. "We were talking about… Algebra. And then we moved onto… um… Other conversational things like—"

"—the weather and pop culture, right?" Ben asked dryly, getting up from the floor and sinking down into the couch. "Algebra was twenty minutes ago, Chris. I've been babbling constantly since then."

"Look, okay, yeah, I was busy and not paying attention and I'm sorry, but, BUT don't you think I've got a good reason to be busy? You know, demonology researching and stuff?"

"You don't know what you're looking for!"

"I do too!"

"Chris, having a vague idea about any demon that could possibly be part of Josh's pool party, thus stopping it, is not demonology research. Bridget and Nixa are going to the party, okay?"

"Or not… Do you think it's polite to call them and tell them to cater for one less?"

Chris looked up from the Book of Shadows suddenly, his eyes taking extra minutes to focus due to the amount of time he'd been reading print. Ben slipped half off the sofa again with a thud, the couch cushion getting dragged off and wedged between the front of the sofa and his back.

"Don't do that!" they both scolded simultaneously, glaring at the new arrival.

Bridget sniggered, pushing her tongue into her cheek and looking them both up and down. She smirked and threw her bag onto an armchair before vaulting the back and draping herself across it.

"How did you get in?" Chris asked, walking around the book to stand in front of her.

"You didn't hear the phone?" Bridget asked, frowning slightly and cocking her head. "I called your mom. From the Police Station." She added the second part airily but as a bombshell, checking Ben and Chris's faces for their reaction. She perked up at their dropped jaws and stretched languidly, sighing contentedly.

"You're going to leave it there!" Ben asked, shuffling forward from the couch.

"Oh, yeah, we're going the classy thing, huh? _Beg _for more info?" Chris said, walking up behind him and hitting him upside the head. He smiled at Ben's withering look and then turned to Bridget. "So?" He dodged a punch from Ben aimed at his leg and threw one of his own at his friend's shoulder.

"Hey, does a girl have to come and kick both your asses for a little attention around here?" Bridget demanded, glaring at the both of them. She got two muttered apologies and, satisfied, continued. "So, yeah, the _Police Station_. I… I found a body." Her face fell just a little, but it was perceptible.

"Where?"

"Near the mall. I was walking home, and I got my… Hunter Tingle… thing and I had to look in this bush and… it was a cheerleader. A girl from _our school._ I think I had gym with her."

Ben and Chris grimaced sympathetically. Chris touched her shoulder, unsure if any more contact than necessary would make her uncomfortable. Moving backward quickly he offered her another commiserating expression.

"Wait, why does this mean that you aren't going to the party?" Ben asked suddenly, breaking them out of their torpor.

Bridget grunted, running a hand across her face tiredly. "Nixa and I… we had this stupid argument. She hates me."

"What about?"

Bridget shrugged and looked down at her nails. "Doesn't matter."

"Why did you call _my _mom anyway?" Chris asked, sensing that that particularly topic was a dead end and frowning as he walked back to the Book of Shadows.

"Oh, my parents are out of town for some fancy hotel break. I _told _you this, right? Or… they might be at some second cousin's funeral. Um…" She waved a hand. "It doesn't matter. I needed a guardian, and I also needed to come here because of the way she was killed, so your mom was the best option."

"Ooh, supernatural murders? We can do those," Ben said enthusiastically, desperate to quell the numbing boredom he was feeling. He got up and replaced the cushion on the sofa carefully. "Details?"

"Not much," Bridget admitted, watching Chris, poised over the Book. "She was found, well, dead… Bulging black veins, terror in her eyes. Oh, slight claw marks in the side of her head. OH! And…" She felt around in her pocket and retrieved a twisted slip of paper. "And definitely tried to defend herself. Demonic skin under her nails." She carefully unwrapped the piece of torn white tissue paper to display the few flakes of dark green flesh concealed within, and then wrapped them back up again with the same amount of care. "So… Go?"

"That's not really a lot of info, Bridget…" Chris said uncertainly, plucking at a page absently. "Anything else?"

"Dark green demon with claws that leaves victims dead and black-veiny… Nope, I think that's it. It killed someone. What other facts do you need?"

"Do you know how many dark green demons with claws there are in this damn thing!" Chris said exasperatedly, tapping the book. "There's like a million!"

"Can't you just…" she trailed off, motioning with two fingers. "You know, flip 'em that way?"

"If I had something to go on, maybe. As I don't…" He caught Bridget's look and sighed. "Okay. Okay, we'll try it with a little telekinesis. But, if the Book flies across the room and hits you in the teeth and you try to blame me?" He let the threat hang.

"Yeah, yeah. Just look up the damn demon," Bridget growled, gesturing impatiently. Chris began flicking his fingers at the book, muttering to himself as the pages began to whir past.

_**Monsters of the Deep End**_

"Okay. That's twenty-nine," Chris said bitterly, slamming the book closed with a dull 'thud'. "Twenty-nine demons that could be our killer. I've marked them with Post-Its, but without any type of description…" he sighed again, running a hand through his hair.

"Well, does it say anything about black and veiny?"

"No, none of them mention black veins," Chris grumbled tiredly. "Those are just the dark green demons with claws. And there's _twenty-nine._"

"Okay, so, we take ten demons each. Look at them, research them, find their MOs… We can do this, right?"

"Ten each makes thirty," Ben reminded her from the couch.

"Oh, yeah, I know. I'll have nine."

"We can't all look in the Book of Shadows at once," Chris said, a hint of duh in his voice.

"Okay, no, we can't, but there are other research-type books around here, right? You have loads of reference books, and Ben can go snooping on the 'Net, and…"

"Bridget, it's ten-thirty. Don't you think we should be thinking about getting home?" Ben tried hopefully.

"What? Why? There are people out there in serious danger. Why are we quitting?"

"It's called curfew, Bridget," Ben groused, getting up off the couch. "I actually have one."

Bridget shrugged. "So? You're staying here the night. What's wrong with that?"

"What's wrong with that is that it's a school night," Piper said sternly, coming in the door. "You all need to sleep — you've got classes tomorrow."

"Don't demonic murders takes priority?" Chris tried.

"Over bedtime and homework? Sorry, not a chance. I'll call Paige up here, we'll do the research and then we might even let you help nail him _if _you're good. So, go, shoo. Ben, your mom will be pissed. Chris, your mom _is _pissed. Bridget… Honey, we have a bed all made up here if you want it, you know that, right?"

Bridget shrugged. "Oh, no, don't worry. I have to go home and make sure I didn't leave any taps running and stuff. My mom made me promise, because that happens way too often to me, and I don't plan for the bathroom floor to end up in the kitchen again…"

"I don't think that that's a good idea…" Piper said, frowning. "Well, okay, yes, good idea but I'm sure you didn't leave the taps running. And, if you had, your house is probably already ruined, so… You just don't need to be on your own right now. What if the demon finds out that you've discovered its body and is mad? No. Stay here tonight. I'll turn down the bed for you now."

Bridget smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Piper."

"It's not a problem. Now, all of you go. Go fast, go now, just _go_."

**_Monsters of the Deep End_**

Ben rubbed his eyes for what felt like the fiftieth time that morning, trying to clear the sleep out of them. He'd been up so much of the night talking to Chris on the Internet. He was going to have to sit there staring at a monitor for the entire lesson, but he knew that he could get away with doing nothing but staring, as he was pretty confident that he could do the entire damn course in two weeks anyway. It was a lot simpler than they had let on when he had been persuaded to take it. Maybe he'd try to pull up some demonology or something. Maybe… on the library computers?

Chris had revealed that the Charmed Ones had found little or nothing to go on with the limited information, just as they had suspected. So now it was down to using whatever other resources they could to get the job done. He'd wanted to ask Nixa about it. Her knowledge of demons was scarily exhaustive, but he hadn't seen her yet today, which was odd. Maybe she was avoiding them because of Bridget?

He twisted his mouth in thought. Yes, he could go to Computer Programming and have the teacher demonstrate something that he had been able to do for about five years, or he could just… cut and do something useful, like demonology research. He was already late anyway, because he'd had to deliver some note to some teacher, so was there really much point in going now?

Totally knowing that, whatever he did, the devil side of his conscience was going to win out, he pushed open the door of the library. He could go to Journalism next period. He kinda needed to turn up for that, because there were mentions of giving him something to put on the front page. Lucky him.

He dumped his bag on a table next to a girl and was about to snag a computer terminal when he realised who the girl was. "Nixa?"

"Yeah?"

"I thought you were sick today. We didn't see you, and I called you, but there was no answer. I just figured you were spending the day in bed."

"Oh. Well, nope. I'm here. Just, you know, reading my book."

"While cutting a class? Don't you have…" Ben frowned. "I have Computer Programming, so you should be in, what, AP FST?"

Nixa shrugged. "Well, I'm not."

Ben sat down next to her. "Why?"

Nixa huffed out an angry sigh and slammed her book closed, getting up to return it to the shelf. "Because, okay? Because I'm petty and mean and selfish and don't like anything but shopping. Happy?"

Ben blinked. "Um… No. Not by a long shot. What's all of this about? Is this the argument you had with Bridget?"

Nixa sniffed and turned, disappearing into the stacks. She didn't know what she was looking for, didn't know what she was even in the mood for reading, but she'd find something. Something to distract her from the nagging questions she was firing at herself. She hadn't wanted to go to Fashion because it seemed to encompass everything that Bridget thought that she was, and so, today, the Hunter had shunned it. She supposed Bridget was right, though. That's why she told people she took AP FST — it was just better for her image than to be thought of as just some bimbo from Fashion whose only As came from 'after school sessions' with her male teachers.

"Boo." She whirled to see Ben standing at the end of the aisle, smiling at her. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about it? Talk about what it feels like to be thought of as selfish by someone you thought knew you and got you better than anyone in the world? Talk about the questions I'm now asking myself, like, 'Am I a good person?' and 'If I still come off as selfish after all the sacrifices I've been forced to make, then why am I bothering?'? Would those topics be good? If not, I could talk about the way in which demons ruin my life constantly and I'm just meant to _ignore _it, or I could talk about—"

"Okay, okay! You, uh… _don't _want to talk about it. With you. But, seriously. Tell me what's _really _wrong?"

Nixa gave him a long, hard look that he returned with triumph and amusement glittering in his eyes. Finally, she stepped forward and led her head on his chest, and he instinctively wrapped his arms around her. He wouldn't ask her about the demonology. He wouldn't mention anything about demons or magic — she wouldn't want that.

"What?"

"I just want to be normal," Nixa said, her voice small. "Why does that make me a bad person?" A cool tear bled through the fabric of his shirt and dampened his skin.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The promise of the coming weekend had lulled the Halliwell Manor into a peaceful clam, although the sense of urgency and mild dread lurked underneath it. Bridget couldn't remember the last time things were quiet there. Usually the sisters were shrieking around demanding to know who borrowed whose new shoes slash earrings slash lipstick or screaming because of a demon attack, which would mean crashing and breakage etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. All in all, not quiet.

_It's ruined my life and when, for once, I want to try and do a little damage control on the tattered wreck my life has become, you hate me for it!_

Bridget's stomach rolled unpleasantly at the memory of Nixa's harsh words and she leaned back in her chair, sullenly glaring at her geometry book as if all of the notes on the page would squiggle into one big pile of sense. Well, they usually did if Nixa helped her because Bridget and math? Not pretty. Now though? Nixa was probably sleeping peacefully in her bed and ignoring things that go bump in the night while she was here struggling with stupid shapes that she had no need for. Passing geometry or not, she already knew her deal: High risk, sub-minimum wage, pointy and sharp things (a plus of her own invention). The guidance counsellor had been pretty explicit in laying the cards on the table.

Didn't 'sealed in fate' mean anything to Nixa? Bridget bit her lip and began tapping the eraser end of her pencil on her book, quietly musing without seeing anything on the page. She sighed. Obviously not.

Why was she stuck here doing this? This was stupid and pointless in the grand scheme of things anyway. She should be helping Ben and Chris who, she noted, were neglecting their schoolwork to look up the demons. But she had felt obliged to do it, because it was Friday, and Friday was always one of the days that Nixa came over and helped her through the shapes scrawled on her textbook's pages. Well, she didn't need Nixa. Look, here she was, doing her homework all by herself, as she normally would on a Friday night. She didn't need Nixa. The formulae were all in her notes. Look at her, the Math whiz, go.

"So what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"

She was glad that her Hunter senses were working even when her brain was apparently not, because, otherwise, Wyatt would have startled her and embarrassment would have ensued and she'd have to kill the blond for sneaking up on her. So, as it was, Bridget barely paid Wyatt a look as he swung the chair across the table backwards and sat down. "If you try the whole 'you're a unique creature unlike any other' line, I will end you," she said dryly, continuing to stare at her tapping pencil, a slight sneer marring her features. She dropped the expression and looped a loose strand of hair behind her ear before taking a last glance at the page's figures and putting her head into her hands and groaning into them. "Listen, Wyatt, I've got a lot of work to d—"

"Where's Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee?" he interrupted with a grin, purposefully trying to break her out of her trance.

That was Wyatt for you. Bridget finally looked at him, brow raised in amusement. "Huh… See, I was leaning more towards Dumb and Dumber but hey, whatever."

Wyatt snorted. "Which one's which?"

"Depends on what day it is," Bridget shot back dryly, sinking lower into her chair and holding up her pencil, wiggling it so that it looked like she had magically turned her straight pencil into a bendy one.

Wyatt laughed at that. "Where are they anyway?"

Bridget shrugged, glancing over to the foyer. Her pencil suddenly escaped from her finger and thumb and flicked across the room. She watched it fall behind the wicker loveseat and cursed lightly to herself. "Uh… they're looking at the Book of Shadows about some demon or… something. I don't know; didn't really listen."

_Lie. Total lie. You were listening — you_ want _to be up there with them. You're just stuck down here because you have a point to prove. Besides, it's your demon, anyway, not theirs._

Wyatt's eyebrows rose slowly. "Bridget Vance not listening up about demons?" he asked in disbelief, polishing an apple on his shirt. "Cosmos stopped spinning while I was out? Where's Hack 'n' Slash Barbie?"

It was Bridget's turn to give a small snort and she looked wistfully over at the place where her pencil was, wishing she had Chris's powers so she could zoom it over to her She looked down at her book, tracing a finger around the three sides of a triangle, trapping her lip thoughtfully between her teeth. "How do you do it?" she finally asked, looking back at him curiously.

Wyatt looked confused at the sudden shift in conversation. "Do what? Geometry?"

Bridget sighed, already half-regretting mentioning it. "Be normal. You know, since you're the 'Chosen One'…" She emphasized with air quotes. The blond looked a little thrown at the unexpected question and didn't say anything and Bridget wasn't sure if she had done something wrong. "I didn't… Sorry. Stupid question, I know, it's just… forget I said—"

"It's hard."

His voice was quiet and matter of fact. Bridget looked at him in surprise but he wasn't looking at her, finding his green apple much more fascinating.

He slowly and deliberately twisted the stalk until it popped off, and then flicked it across the room. "To know that you're different? Hard. To not let your differences set you back normal-wise? Harder. It… I mean, it just takes a while to accept that you're never, ever going to be like those other teenagers and then you're set for a lifetime of loneliness and bitterness." He raised the apple into the air and toasted her with it before biting into it.

"So you think it can be done?" Bridget asked.

Wyatt shrugged, chewed, swallowed. "Sure, why not? I just don't know if it's worth the effort, especially when you've always got that little voice telling you that there's no point anyway."

"Do you want to be normal, though?"

Wyatt paused, taking another bite before answering. "Look at it from my point of view. Half of the magical people in my life don't look on me as a person; they just look on me as this huge concentration of power. It's just, like… hello, I have a face! You know what I mean?"

"Ooooh yeah. You have no idea how many guys I've said that to… Coincidentally, it's nearly the same amount as how many guys' noses I've broken… Huh."

Wyatt laughed. "What's with the questions, anyway? Are you thinking about getting all normal? 'cause I have money. I'd pay for that experience."

"Sure. You might as well start paying for your 'experiences' now. Get practise in for later on in your life."

"And what's wrong with that? A prostitute never whines about you calling her afterwards."

Bridget gave him an amused but withering look. "Yeah, because all girls want to be called afterwards. Not one girl is in it just for the sex, right?"

Wyatt's face lit up. "Is that an offer? 'cause, like I said, I've got money."

Bridget scoffed. "You couldn't afford me," she said airily, sniffing as she pushed back her chair across the tiles to go and retrieve her pencil. "And, on the off chance that you could, even a whore has to have some standards." She stuck her arm underneath the loveseat and was about to grab the pencil when it disappeared in a cloud of orbs and reappeared in Wyatt's hand.

"You dropped this."

"Oh, gee, thanks, Wyatt. It was so gentlemanly of you to make me get down on my knees— she caught Wyatt wiggling his eyebrows "—EW! Just… ew. Seriously." She paused. "Ew."

Wyatt grinned lopsidedly and flicked the pencil point over eraser through the air at her. She caught it deftly and rose to her feet with all of the dignity she could muster, adding a small, 'Hmmph' for emphasis to show how totally above this whole situation she was.

Wyatt had eaten the apple down to the core so he got up and tucked the chair back under the table. "Thank you for your audience," he told her with a half-bow, "I feel honoured now." He left through the dining room, pushing the swing door into the kitchen and vanishing from sight.

Bridget walked back over to the table with her pencil, twirling it between her fingers absently like a miniature baton. She flipped two pages in her textbook before looking up. "Hey, wait!" she yelled. "Do you know anything about geometry?"

_**Monsters of the Deep End**_

Stupid Wyatt. For all his powers, he had no clue about Geometry. Stupid bastard. She looked out of the window and suddenly realised that it was dark out. She'd spent waaaaaaay too long on this already. She slammed her textbook closed, rattling the table, and began cramming everything into her schoolbag at her feet. It could wait until she could steal the answers off someone.

She sighed, groaned and led her head down on the cool metal of the table, trying to force it to soothe away her headache. She had got no Math done, but she had got a lot of thinking done instead. Had she been wrong to blow up at Nixa like that? Should she have been kinder, more understanding towards her friend?

No. No, because Nixa was wrong to want to be normal and to not do anything good. She was right, and Nixa was wrong; there was nothing simpler than that, right?

Right?

She huffed in annoyance and turned, hearing footfalls on the stairs, announcing the arrival of Ben and Chris. Ben was cramming potions into his pockets and Chris was sliding an athame into his waistband and arranging his hoodie over it as he ran.

"Okay, Geometry. Pythagoras: Triangles, right?" Bridget asked hopefully, needing to clarify this before she could move on.

"Um, what?"

"Geometry. Pythagoras is for triangles, right? I always get it confused."

Ben frowned. "Um… Yeah. The sum of the first two sides squared is equal to the hypotenuse squared. Why?"

"THAT'S Pythagoras! Oh, crap. I'm gonna fail math… Ugh. Wait… Do I need it for a job in construction?"

"Um, well, let's think. 'How many more tiles do we need up there, Bridget?' 'I don't know, I failed Math'. Yeah. Yeah, something tells me that you will need it," Ben said over his shoulder, grabbing his car keys. "That's just a hunch, though."

"Ugh. Why couldn't you have just said 'Yes'? Why do you _always _resort to sarcasm?"

"It annoys you," Ben answered simply, grinning as Bridget narrowed her eyes at him. "What? I figure that's as good a reason as any."

Bridget stuffed her pencil case in her bag and zipped it up. "Where are you two going all weaponed up anyway?"

"Josh's party," Chris said quickly, grabbing his jacket. "Want to come with?"

Bridget rolled her eyes heavily. "Um… No. There is no demon at Josh's party. You're both just jealous and want to find any excuse you can to stop it. You've jumped to conclusions and are going to storm the place and look ridiculous and end up… taped naked to the diving board. Or whatever to frat-boys-to-be are doing to gatecrashers these days."

"The girl you found?" Ben said. "The cheerleader? She knew Josh, right?"

"_All _the cheerleaders know Josh," Bridget duhed, "what's the big deal?"

"Look, there's not enough time to explain. If you're coming, we'll brief you en-route," Chris said tensely. "Basically, you know how weird it was that he invited you and Nixa? And we just thought it was because you'd look good in bikinis?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, we think it's because he has… some kind of detection method for good people. I don't know. There are certain demons that have it."

"Oh, Chris, for God's sake," Bridget said tiredly, rubbing her temples. "Josh. Is not. A demon. Josh Muse is in no way demonic. He's mean and rich, sure, but that doesn't make him a demon. You just don't like him because he beat you up."

"Oh, sure, Chris. What a petty reason to dislike him."

"And, again, sarcasm. Get a new shtick already."

"So you're not coming?" Chris asked, looking into her eyes. She shifted uncomfortably on the chair, knowing full well that he was _asking _her to come. She wasn't, however, going to be dragged halfway across town because of her crazy friends' heavily biased opinions. For one thing, on the tiny, slim chance that Nixa was in danger she could more than handle herself. Perhaps _that _would make her thankful for her gift.

"To vanquish the school's baseball star? Sure."

"Oh, and _I'm _sarcastic?" Ben asked, shaking his head as he shrugged on his jacket. "Fine. Don't come. We will do this on our own. When we get back and the demon is dead, we expect a full apology."

"Take your time. There's a movie marathon on TV that I wanted to see, and I hate it when people steal my popcorn."

Rolling their eyes, the witches left the Manor.

Everyone had gone insane. Ben and Chris were going to vanquish _Josh_, for God's sake. She got up, stretched, and flung herself on the sofa in the parlour, scattering the throw cushions. She began searching for the remote, tearing the couch apart and not finding it. Chris and Ben were going to go and vanquish Josh. And Nixa… Well, Nixa was a bitch.

A bitch that she couldn't help but feel guilty over.

Guilt. She hated guilt. Guilt sucked ass. Its clutches fully encircling her, she sighed in frustration and stomped off to the attic. She'd look over Ben and Chris's research, just to see what a load of dumb fabrications it was, and _then _she'd start the movie marathon. That way, maybe she could sit there and enjoy the movie without the niggling guilt.

_**Monsters of the Deep End**_

Okay, so here she was in the attic. Take that, guilt. Here she was, taking an interest in her friends' ridiculous research. Maybe then, when she found that they were grasping at straws, she could go and watch the movies. Maybe the remote would even turn up — Karma and all. The Book of Shadows was open on its pedestal. The glass door to the potions cabinet was still ajar and moving slightly, creaking as it did so. Annoyed at the way its eeriness had made her shudder, she crossed the room with long, purposeful strides and slammed the door.

Ben's laptop, trailing its power cord, sat humming dejectedly on a table, its screen blank. Phoebe's printer sat next to it, its light blinking green at her. As she crossed to it instinctively, not knowing why, she kicked a sheet of paper on the floor. Next to the printer was a small stack of printouts, the top page of which was missing. Retrieving the sheet from the floor and replacing it in its rightful position, she caught sight of the pictures on the page.

The first picture on the page was of a man with bulging black veins covering his face and neck and gouge marks in the side of his face. Dead. He was dead… Her breath catching in her throat as she was hit with a nasty déjà vu, she reached out with shaking hands and picked up the entire stack of papers. Her eyes skimmed frantically over the text, barely taking any of it in. Instead of words, all she could see was that picture, that awful, awful picture of that poor man, and then of that poor cheerleader…

She dropped the papers to the floor and ran.

_**Monsters of the Deep End**_

The knot in her shirt had slipped, and Nixa toyed with the ends, tickling them against her palm. Here she was. Being normal. Being selfish, mean but totally normal. She sighed. Bridget should be here. Bridget would be an excellent companion. But Bridget didn't want to be normal. Bridget was kind and selfless and she… wasn't.

She couldn't quite bring herself to go near the party yet. She was quite content looking into the plate glass of the sliding door on the side of the house, loathing her reflection. She reached back and yanked out her ponytail, letting her hair tumble down her shoulders. This was Nixa. This was evil bitch Nixa who craved normality but totally didn't deserve it.

Or did she? The imbalance in her thinking was driving her nutty. She put her hair back up in a ponytail and reached into her bag. Her hand brushed the cold steel of an athame that she had brought along just because she always brought it along. She took it out of her bag and held it up, twisting the blade so that the light coiled around it like mercury.

This knife was for the old Nixa. The one that would be home on a Friday night helping Bridget with her Geometry homework. The one that was a glutton for punishment. The one that wouldn't be here now. Gripping its hilt hard she spun and rammed the point of the blade into the fence post so hard that it emerged the other side. There.

She reached back into her bag and pulled out a clip, twisted her ponytail and fastened her hair. She took out a pair of sunglasses and slotted them neatly onto her head, their arms disappearing into her hair. Shouldering her bag, she viciously retied her top and, head high, began stalking off to the back of the house and the pool. Where the fun was. Where the normalcy was.

"Nina!"

The rumbling of the sliding door made her turn on her heel. She nearly lost a flip-flop and her balance but managed to regain composure. "Josh! Hey! Am I late? I'm late, aren't I? I'm sorry…"

"No, no, hey, don't worry about it. Come in, let me show you around."

Nixa blinked, but then smiled again. "Sure." The blonde stepped over the threshold. The room had a high ceiling made entirely of glass panels, and the mid-evening light flooded in through them. It would have been called a conservatory if it had had glass walls, but it didn't. There were, however, numerous plants scattered around the room, some hanging from the ceiling others growing up from the floor. The air was humid and damp, and there was actually soil under her feet instead of a floor. Josh rolled the door closed behind her and suddenly she was no longer in San Francisco, but in the Amazon. "Wow…"

"Yeah, this is my mom's… greenhouse, garden room… place. She likes to look at the plants, but she doesn't take care of them. Seriously, if social services saw what she manages to do to plants, they'd take me away."

Nixa laughed, surprising herself with how genuine it came out. She had only intended to force a laugh but she was actually laughing. Carefree and fun-loving laughing. "I bet the plants wish there was a foster home for them, huh?"

"Probably. Juan looks after everything in here anyway. I don't touch anything on pain of death."

"Good call."

"Okay, through here…" He opened a door that led out into a corridor. The walls were bedecked with pictures of him on the baseball. Trophies sat in a large, glass-fronted cabinet. In another cabinet, the one closest to them, an array of signed baseballs and bats were displayed on stands. "Through here, if you'd like to close your eyes to my parents' shrine to me, because it's more than a little embarrassing…"

"You're lucky your parents realise that you've achieved something," Nixa said dryly, starting up at the fifty or so Joshes sliding into the home plate or hitting homeruns or being carried on his team's shoulders or having bottles of water emptied over him in the dugouts.

"Yours don't?"

"Yesterday, my mother called me Felicity. Three times. Which is the name of her sister that she's been too busy to see in five years. The day before that, Dad asked me what I wanted for my fourteenth birthday. So, yeah."

"Oh, ouch. That sucks. Sorry for bringing it up."

Nixa shrugged. "It's nothing. Seriously, they _are_ amazing parents, they just love their jobs so much, that's all. When they're not working, we spend loads of time together — it's fun. But yeah. Basically? No shrine of me."

"Well, this isn't all a shrine to me anyway," Josh said, crossing to the cabinet with the autographed baseball paraphernalia. "I get to have my own shrine." He reached in and pulled a bat off its stand and gave it some practise swings. "This bat is signed by Carl Everett for the Seattle Mariners." He swung it again. "I was practically falling out of the bleachers begging him to sign it. Pathetic, yeah, but he was one of my childhood heroes, so—" He swung the bat suddenly, cracking it against Nixa's skull. The blonde didn't even have time to react and went down, hard, her bag spilling its contents all over the floor.

* * *

**_Embry -- Thank you. I daren't say more on pain of death. And the same goes to everyone else. Despite the fact that I already have this written and am not writing it as I post it, I'm still getting an immense amount of enjoyment out of it. Go figure. Thank you all for your continuing support._**


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

"Um… thought…" Ben said, frowning.

"Really? Did you hurt yourself?"

Ben took his eyes off the road for a second to give Chris a disdainful look before switching back to out of the windscreen again. "That joke is so old."

Chris grinned and put his feet up on the dash, resting a pad of paper on his thighs. It was covered with scribbled brainstorms and notes, all eventually linking to one factor — Josh. Chris hoped that no one asked them how they'd come to the conclusion because, looking at the tangled web of black ink on the page, even he had no idea and half the handwriting was his.

The demon sucked the life out of people — it was how it fed. The book had some vague references to human/demon contracts, but nothing concrete, and it had taken some seriously-skilled Googling from Ben to come up with the evidence that they needed. Human/demon contracts involved humans supplying food for the demon and in return gaining a little of the life that the demon sucked from its victims. They were sure that Josh, while he was no demon, was benefiting from this deal.

And they were here to stop him, before Nixa became the next victim. Chris had to grab the door handle as Ben executed a particularly sharp turn to stop him landing on the gear stick. The athame jabbed him in the thigh and he grunted, wishing that he'd thought of asking Bridget for some kind of holster.

"No, _anyway_, thought… Infiltrating a pool party requires entirely different attire than this."

Chris blinked. "Um… Huh. I apologise for mocking your thought. There's no time to go back to the Manor now, though. So… We'll just have to sneak in. Rather than blending, we'll just not be seen."

"Glad to know that this mission won't be difficult," Ben groused, flipping on the blinker and making the final turn of the journey. They got out of the car, Chris tossing the pad down onto his vacated seat and shifting the athame while Ben looked up at the house and whistled. "Okay, I take it back. We're gonna have like five hundred square feet to ourselves all the time."

"Come on. The party'll be around the back, so we'll go in the front."

"And then what? Drag Nixa out by her hair? Good luck with that one. She's gonna be having fun."

Chris turned on his heel on the porch steps, exasperated. "What is it with you and making valid points today? Are you just… determined to trash all my plans? Is that it?"

Ben grinned. "Of course. Unless the plan is for world domination and I get to be sidekick, I will be forever thwarting your plans."

Chris laughed, shaking his head. "Loser."

"Freak."

Chris tried the front door, shoving against it, but it didn't open. Frowning, the witch-whitelighter tried again, but it was locked. "Locked? It's a party. Who locks a door when there's a party?"

"Someone that doesn't want to be surprised by anyone using the front entrance?" Ben tried.

"Rhetorical question," Chris deadpanned. "Come on. We can't go round the back, but there's got to be a side door…"

They jumped over the porch's wall and landed in the soft dirt of a flowerbed, managing to miss the shrubs growing there. Together, they slunk around the corner of the house, hoping to hell that there were no neighbours looking ready to report prowlers.

"Oh, God…" Chris touched the handle of an athame embedded in the fence post gingerly, as if it might burn him. "This is Nixa's, right?"

"Looks like it." All of the jokiness resulting from their previous banter had gone from Ben's voice. His eyes worried, he grabbed the handle and tried pulling it from the wood. It just creaked but wouldn't give. "On the plus side, it was definitely Nixa that rammed this in here and not someone else. I can't get it to budge."

Chris flicked two fingers at the athame, and the metal blade screeched as it was torn free. The hilt slapped into the palm of his hand and the witch-whitelighter began checking the metal for any signs of blood, human or demonic. Finding none, he was able to relax a little, but not enough. "Call Nixa's cell," he said suddenly. "Maybe we can get her out here before he gets to her."

"Good plan." Ben pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and flipped it open, pressing Nixa's speed dial key. In his ear, the phone began to ring. As he listened to the rhythmic purring, Chris was sliding open a plate glass door in the side of the house. With one last furtive glance around, the witch slipped into the Muse residence after his friend, rolling the door closed behind him. "Um… Welcome to the jungle?" Ben said as Nixa's answering machine picked up. He cursed and closed the phone, then opened it again and pressed redial. "Someone here is a serious botanist."

"Let's just find Nixa," Chris said, ducking under some kind of hanging leafy thing. "I'll feel a lot better knowing that this is just a straightforward kill mission rather than a search and rescue."

"Just her machine. Again," Ben announced, slamming the phone closed in annoyance. "Maybe she left it at home so no one _could _contact her?"

"Try once more," Chris said, cautiously edging closer to the only door in the room. "If not, I'll try to sense her." The witch-whitelighter took a deep breath and grabbed the doorknob, willing there to be no one on the other side of the door. He wrenched it open quickly and violently, before he lost his nerve, and was greeted with the sight of a corridor full of pictures of Josh and an annoying buzzing sound. "Can you hear that?"

"What?" Ben asked, hearing only his phone purring.

"Something's buzzing…"

Frowning, the witch flipped his phone closed again and crept to stand next to Chris. "I… don't hear a thing."

"It's stopped…"

They pushed ahead into the corridor, closing the door on the jungle room. The AC was on in the main house, cooling their sticky, jungle-humid skin.

"This is one hell of a freaky shrine…" Ben commented, wrinkling his nose at one of the pictures of Josh. "Remind me again why I wasn't an only child? Oh my God! Look!"

"What? Where?" Chris asked, whirling around, his heart thumping in his ears. "What's happening?"

"The lucky bastard has a bat signed by Carl Everett for the Seattle Mariners!" Ben picked up the bat from where it was leaning against the display case and swung it through the air. "Bastard. Did I mention I hated him? And that he totally deserves to be vanquished?"

Chris rolled his eyes. "We're in a stranger's house, uninvited, expecting a demon to pop out any second and you start yelling about a baseball bat. What, do you _want _me to have a coronary?"

"A Carl Everett signed baseball bat," Ben corrected him.

Chris grinned. "Give it here. Do you think that it's Josh's bat or Carl's?"

Ben's eyes lit up as he passed it over. "After we vanquish his sorry ass, can I keep it?"

"No…"

"What? No? Why no?"

"No, no as in… 'Oh no, there's blood on this'," Chris said, rolling the bat around in his hands to show Ben the small, dark brown stain that had bled into the wood. "How much do you want to bet that it's Nixa's?"

"Shit…" Ben grabbed his cell phone from his pocket and dialled Nixa again. "She better not just be ignoring this…"

"Wait, there it is again."

"Huh?"

"Buzzing…" Chris crouched, the sound louder the lower he got. It was emanating from the floor. Just… _where? _His eyes swept over the tiled floor and he noticed both his and Ben's muddy footprints on the tiles overlaying some others left there before. Well, why tile in white next to a room that's floor is made of soil?

There.

Underneath the display cabinet a green light blinking and flashing at him urgently. He heard Ben snap his phone closed and reached out for the light just as the buzzing cut out. It was Nixa's cell phone. The display was telling him that she had missed four calls.

"Huh," said a voice. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?"

_**Monsters of the Deep End**_

There was some kind of regular pattering sound. It was permeating into her consciousness, kick starting a tiny iota of her brain. Dimly, it began to grind away in her head, waking up other parts as it went.

_Drip. Drip._

More of her brain waking up, like dawn coming slowly inside her head. She shook her head vaguely, feeling something tickle her face as it whooshed past and the groaned, shaking her head harder, all the time more parts of her brain clicking on.

_Drip._

What _was _that noise? Enough of her brain was online now to tell her to open her eyes and she did so, staring at a curtain of blonde hair. How had that come loose from both a tie _and _a clip? She reached up to brush it aside, but her hand was jerked back with a loud clanking of chains. Startled, her heartbeat kicked up a couple of notches and her body plugged her full of adrenaline. Awkwardly, she manoeuvred her hand so that she could brush some of her hair aside and flicked the rest away with a toss of her head.

Where _was _she? It was dark, that was for sure, but her eyes had been closed for God knew how long, so she was used to seeing through the gloom. She caught dim light gleaming off the front of two large, square appliances — a washer and dryer? — and some steps directly in front of her. She kicked a foot out of a flip-flop and touched the floor with her bare sole. Cold concrete, maybe slightly damp. Okay, so, she was underground.

Underground with her hands manacled above her head.

_Drip. Drip._

The noise was coming from somewhere near her feet. Scrunching up her face at the sheer grossness of what she was about to do, she stuck out a toe like they had taught in ballet and felt around on the floor. There was just cold, damp concrete until—

Ew.

It was warm and sticky and she suddenly knew what it was. Blood. Now her brain had been fully jolted awake, she could feel something irritating her chin and knew that it was beads of blood. How badly was she hurt, anyway? She couldn't have been out long, or the blood would definitely have clotted, thanks to the Hunter super heal thing.

_The one you hate, remember?_

She groaned again. This… ugh. She wasn't sure what was worse — being captured or having to admit that Bridget had been right all along: being normal _was_ bad. Being special was good. Oh, crap. That and, after she'd choked down that particular slice of humble pie, there'd be Ben and Chris to appease. They'd known Josh was up to something from the start, had always said so, and she had never listened. Dammit. Why was it that, today, everyone else got to be right instead of her?

Lights blinked to life. They weren't particularly bright but she still squinted, having been used to the darkness for so long. There were two wooden support pillars spaced evenly in from each wall, framing the stairs directly in front on her. In a niche to her left were the correctly guessed washer and dryer. There was an old, rectangular ceramic sink in the niche too.

Frowning, she jerked at her chains but they refused to budge. No one had come down the stairs yet. Perhaps someone had hit the lights by accident? No. The door opened at the top of the stairs. Instinctively, she dropped her head, knowing it to be to her advantage that her captor think that she was still unconscious.

She caught sight of the blood on the floor that she had stuck her foot in earlier and grimaced, watching another drop fall from her chin and into the puddle, stirring the surface up into a mass of ripples. She was probably bleeding from her head and face. The head wound theory would explain the amount of blood — head wounds bled like bitches.

The pair of flip-flops that were all she could identify of whoever was coming down the stairs came closer, reaching the last step and making a completely different noise as they hit the concrete floor. They came closer to her and she closed her eyes, despite the fact that her face was hidden nearly entirely by her hair.

"Nina?" a voice called softly, echoing in the basement. "Are you awake?"

The flip-flops came closer and her breath hitched in her body, all of her muscles tightening in anticipation. She opened her eyes a crack, peering out from beneath her lashes at the approaching form. At the last second, when he could have come in range, he veered towards the sink and began running the water.

"Nina?"

Crossing the room, crossing the room… She was having to fight hard to prevent any part of her body twitching involuntarily. Adrenaline was pulsating through her, buzzing around her head, screaming at her to move, to run, to fight. But she couldn't, not until whoever this was in range. THEN she could fight.

"I'm really sorry about this…" It was Josh. Oddly, his voice had the same tingling affect on her spine as it always did, despite the situation.

He stepped in front of her and she sprang suddenly to life, grabbing her chains with both hands and pulling herself off her feet, snapping a two-footed kick at his chest. Her feet hit the floor just as Josh's left it. Her kick had sent him catapulting out of his flip-flops. He soared backwards through the air, landing halfway up the basement steps with a crash that almost made her wince.

Almost.

"Josh, I don't know what kind of sick game this is but I swear if you do not get me out of these things in ten seconds, I'll—" What? What would she do? There was nothing she could do unless he let her out first. It was a catch-22.

"What the hell was that?" Josh yelped from the stairs, having shaken away the dancing lights in his head. He got up slowly, clutching the banister for support.

"A taster," Nixa snapped back shortly, grabbing her chains again and yanking them as hard as she could, hoping to tear them free of whatever moorings they were in. Nothing was happening. She pulled harder, and a small amount of dust rained down onto her face.

"Look… I _am _really sorry about this, you know," Josh said, sounding vaguely hurt.

The tone in his voice shocked Nixa enough to stop her escape attempts. "Um… What? You're sorry that you've completely smashed my face in with a baseball bat and chained me up in your basement? Oh, well, then apology accepted. Totally."

Josh sighed, picking up a cloth from beside him. It was what had had apparently been dampening in the sink earlier. "You don't get it," he muttered to his feet, gingerly making his way down the basement steps. "This isn't something I want to do."

"Then why are you doing it?"

He ran a hand across his forehead, pausing hesitantly before stepping in range again. She didn't move and, encouraged, he slowly crept closer, hands out to placate her. "Because I have to." Slowly, he moved the cloth to the side of her face and began daubing at the blood there, cleaning the stickiness from her cheek. Nixa winced inwardly as he pressed on her bruise but gave no outward sign of her discomfort, only signs of her confusion.

"What?"

Josh swallowed, his throat tightening. He kept his eyes focussed on his task, flicking them nervously towards Nixa's face only once. Finding that she was staring at him intently, he didn't look back at her. He gave a sudden, breathy, sad laugh and turned away from her, pacing the length of the underground room with the red-tinged cloth squeezed in his fist. He turned suddenly, lashing out and punching one of the support pillars. Nixa watched impassively.

Something was troubling him. This was not the Josh that she knew. This was not the Josh that stalked the halls at school with his friends. This was not the Josh that had parked on the curb at the mall, neither the Josh whose smile that she had fallen so madly in love with. This was a scared, vulnerable, hurt Josh, one that nevertheless intrigued her.

"My mom…" he began, doing her the courtesy of turning to her when he spoke. There were actual tears glinting in his eyes. "My mom is sick," he told her, his Adam's apple bobbing. "It's cancer. It's everywhere — she's, like, riddled with it. Seriously. She has a brain tumour, bone cancer, cancer in her lymph glands… She left it too late. The doctors, they… They gave her four to six months. Maximum. Too late to even treat it, they could just make her comfortable and… _wait. _Wait for it to happen. Can you believe that? Like vultures."

"Oh, Josh, I'm so sorry…"

Josh took in a deep shuddering breath, shrugging it off. He ploughed on, the words not able to tumble out of his mouth fast enough. He was obviously relieving a burden that he'd been carrying for a long time. "That was two and a half years ago now."

"She beat it?"

The baseball star shook his head mutely, staring at the floor. "She… she got two months into the time the doctors had given her and took a turn for the worst and ended up in hospital. They gave her days. _Days. _My dad, he went nuts. He took leave from work, started looking into all of these ways to cure her. Pioneering drugs, Far Eastern medicines, herbs, acupuncture, anything that you can think of he researched into it. But it was for nothing. He couldn't find anything to cure her. Not until…" He broke off, his eyes red, and let the first of his tears fall silently and swiftly down his cheeks. He swiped at them with his sleeve. "Not until he finally turned to… dark stuff. Like voodoo, or something. African Witch Doctors. Whatever. I don't know.

"He summoned… something. This… thing. I don't know what it is. But I know that he feeds it people. And, somehow, through this voodoo stuff it stops Mom dying. She made a miraculous recovery, the doctors were baffled, ran her through a million tests, found her cancers were all shrinking. They couldn't explain it."

Demon. There you go. Josh wasn't a demon; Ben and Chris had that part at least wrong. He just helped a demon along with meals to save his mom. And it was killing him. She could see that now. The Josh Muse mask he usually wore was gone now and she could see the raw wound underneath as the tears streamed down his face.

"Normally he feeds it, which isn't so bad, but he's away on business and he took her with her, kind of another honeymoon, so I'm left here to do it. And I… can't not, you know? I can't not feed it, because otherwise it'll just turn on me and let mom die. I don't know what to do… I'm _killing _people. I'm killing them, but my mom isn't dying, so by killing them I'm _not _killing her. I can't let her suffer like that again. I can't see her lying in a hospital bed again; I won't let that happen to her. Ever. But… There has to be another way. But there _isn't…_ And it's not happy right now. I mean, I tried to feed it this cheerleader, but it didn't like her. It only likes a special kind of person. Good people. I mean, she was a bitch, so I'm not surprised, but now it's angry and my dad called and my mom isn't feeling well and it's all my freaking fault…" He set about kicking the dryer, denting the door inwards. Screaming with rage at the internal battle waging in his head, he kicked at the dryer until he split his foot open and was smearing it with red with each kick.

"It's not fair…" he said, swiping tears from his eyes. "It's not fair that you have to die, but… but you're not my mom. And it's you or her, and I'm _sorry_, so sorry, but…"

"Josh!" The yell came from the top of the stairs, from behind the closed basement door. Josh spun on his heel, looking up at the ceiling like a deer caught in the headlights. He quickly wiped all the remnants of tears from his eyes, and Nixa could see his persona sliding up like an electric car window. He was back to being the invulnerable Josh.

"Dude, I'm coming!" he yelled at the ceiling, turning and looking at Nixa once last time before climbing the basement stairs, limping as he did so and tracking blood. At the top of the stairs he turned once more, met her eyes, swallowed and snapped off the light.

_**Monsters of the Deep End**_

A balloon hit Ben in the gut. Despite the fact that the projectiles were only water and rubber, they sure as hell hurt. It felt like a fist was being driven into his stomach. It exploded, throwing water all over his already sodden T-shirt. The blue cotton was nearly black with water and clinging to him. The school's star pitcher, no less, sent another one hurtling towards him. He turned his head, flinching in anticipation of the impact, and it hit him on the side of his face, blinding him with water and causing him to choke. He tossed his head, vainly trying to flick a strand of dripping hair from where it was agitating his eyelid.

In front of him, Lyle the pitcher high-fived some other moron and stepped back. Once again, the water balloon hit him and exploded, driving the air from his lungs. He winced, fighting with all of the strength he had not to break the ropes binding his hands behind his back. Instead, he twisted them until his wrists felt raw but to no avail.

A slap of water hit his back, splash back from someone bursting a water balloon on Chris who was tied to the basketball pole behind him and enduring the same punishment for being caught as a gatecrasher as he was. Ben could feel Chris's fingers scrabbling at the knots with about as much success that Ben had had previously.

Their potions had been shattered. It seemed that the two guys that had grabbed them had thought that they were laxatives ready for the punchbowl. At first, Ben had been insulted that he was being thought of as petty enough to do something like that, but that feeling had soon passed when he realised what the rest of his evening was going to involve — being target practise for people with IQs of nine. Collectively.

"I bet you'll think twice about doing this again, huh, Olsen?" Someone was jeering at him, but he couldn't actually see who it was. The sun had shifted and was glaring into his eyes. Add the fact that he was half-blinded by water and his own hair didn't help any either.

"Well, I like to pride myself on the ability to think _once._ It's not a talent that all present share." Three water balloons hit his chest simultaneously. It hurt like hell, but it had so been worth it just to imagine the indignation of their faces.

"Josh! Look who we found."

The voice came from behind him and he turned his neck as far as he could. He just about caught a glimpse of Josh crossing the patio and skirting the pool, in which some cheerleaders were playing volleyball with a giant inflatable beach ball, and coming towards them before realising what a mistake it was to turn his focus away from the missiles coming towards him. He turned his head back just in time to get a water balloon in the face.

Coughing up the inhaled water and screwing his eyes shut to get it clear from them he shook his head, finally flicking the aggravating strand of hair from his face and throwing droplets of water everywhere. "This was _just_ how I wanted to spend my evening," he muttered. "Screw going to the movies on a Friday night, no. I'd much rather be here getting humiliated by a bunch of mouth-breathing Neanderthals."

"Hey, don't forget who you're dissing here. The future bums, pornstars and fast-food workers of America. Our society is based on these people," Chris shot back, glaring at Josh as he came closer.

"Huh. Touché."

When Josh realised that it was Ben and Chris he did a double take, his eyes widening momentarily as he made the connection between them and Nixa. His face then hardened again, and his patented sneer contorted his features as he stepped menacingly closer to them like a lion stalking its prey. "What were you doing here? Trying to see if you could clean my windshield?"

"Yup, that's it," Ben said. "A buck thrown to me by Josh Muse would be something I'd tape into my scrapbook and treasure forever."

"Whoa, slow down there. A buck? _That's _the going rate for those bums that jump out at you when you stop at traffic lights? And here's me thinking that not running them down was payment enough. Well, you learn something new every day, huh?"

Ben shrugged. "Well, now you mention it, a dental plan _would _be nice…"

"No, seriously. What are you doing here?"

Chris paused, starting the sentence twice before finally deciding to throw caution to the winds. "We're looking for Nixa," he said eventually. "She wasn't answering her cell and her, uh, sister um… ate a peanut and her throat closed up and she's in the ER. I guess this is the thanks you get for being good citizens, right?" As if to punctuate his point, someone threw another water balloon at him. Water dripped from his sodden jeans and hoodie and into his trainers. He shifted his feet, squeezing water out with his movements.

"Nixa? Short, blonde, hot, right?"

Ben rolled his eyes heavily. "Yes, amongst other things…" He paused, craning his neck to look back at Chris. "Wait, I forget. Are we allowed to think that's Nixa's hot? Or are we not?"

Chris was about to speak, but he closed his mouth again, having to contemplate it. "Feminist Nixa is not a tool for male oppressors to goggle at, right?"

"Uh-huh, but insecure, 'fat' Nixa is totally hot," Ben countered. "Wow… When did my life become such a complicated mess?"

"Since you broke in to poison the punchbowl," Lyle said, stepping up next to Josh. "We found vials full of coloured liquids in their pockets. We smashed 'em, but I can't think of anything else that they were going to use them for."

"That's right! I remember now! My life is so empty I have nothing better to do than come and ruin your party! Damn me and my faulty memory. I knew I should have written that down, Chris."

"Coloured liquids in vials?" Josh paused, his eyes narrowing. Chris thought that he could even see a flash of panic behind them, but he couldn't be sure because it was gone in a heartbeat. "Ugh. I am so bored of these two clowns. I'll go throw them in the basement or something. We'll find something fun to do with them later."

There was suddenly a knife pressed between Ben's wrists and the witch gulped, stiffening, as the metal slid between the small space between his hands, sawing at the ropes. They snapped slowly and Ben gratefully tugged his hands free, rubbing at his raw wrists as Chris was also cut free.

Lyle surged forward and grabbed his upper arm, tossing him down into the dirt behind the basketball hoop. Ben sprawled ungainly, sliding across the grass before sitting up and glaring at the pitcher, who just laughed in his face and turned his back on the witch. Ben looked over to Chris. Josh was speaking quietly to his friend, and, as hard as he tried, Ben could make out neither words nor their lip movements. Josh, catching him staring, beckoned to him harshly and the witch climbed to his feet, wringing water out of his T-shirt as he did so.

"I was just saying to your boyfriend here that, if you want to see Nina, or Nixa, or whatever her name is, then you will come with me without a fight. You will not try to do any witchy stuff on me or anything or anyone else here. Got it?"

"You lost me with the witch thing," Ben said, cocking his head. "I'm a little confused. Is that a metaphor, or are there actually women flying past the moon as we speak on broomsticks?" Ben gave a mock gasp. "And here's me thinking that your mom flew out of the country on an _aeroplane._"

He was completely unprepared for Josh's fist connecting with his jaw. He spun as he went down and hit the grass face first, tasting a warm trickle of copper in his mouth. He traced over the split inside of his cheek with his tongue, and then over his lip, following with two fingers that came back bloodstained. He spat blood onto the grass before turning over and sitting up. People were clapping at Josh and laughing at him, and he was sure that his face was burning the same colour as the blood winding its way down his chin.

Still, he grinned up at the baseball player. "Sore spot?"

"You have no idea," Josh snarled tightly, dragging Ben up from the floor. "Now move it before I hit you again."


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

"Nixa!" Chris twisted himself free of Josh's grasp, practically falling down the last few stairs. He couldn't right himself and fell with his foot jammed underneath a step, wrenching something in his ankle before pulling it free and tumbling head over heels to the cold concrete of the basement floor. Grunting, the witch-whitelighter hissed in pain, clutching at his ankle.

"Do we need to have a tutorial on how to use stairs, Halliwell?" Josh asked laughingly, finishing hauling Ben down the steps and letting go of him.

Immediately, the witch hurried to Nixa's side as Chris tried to stand. His ankle buckled underneath him and spots of pain danced across his line of vision, momentarily blinding him. He shuffled backwards to one of the support pillars and pulled himself up using it, leaning against it and his good foot to stay vertical. He glared at Josh, seething, and tossed out a freeze at the baseball player, stopping him in his tracks.

"Well, this _sucks_," Chris muttered darkly, grimacing as he tried to curl up his toes. "I think I've sprained something…"

"Oh, great, my rescue party crippled half of itself. I have so much confidence in my continued safety," Nixa bit out sarcastically. She turned to Ben, stamping her foot and shaking her chains. "Why are you standing there? Get these off me!"

"Hey, Wyatt?" Chris called to the ceiling, turning slightly and seeing Ben looking over at him with a cocked, questioning eyebrow. "Backup never hurts," he explained with a shrug. "Especially backup that can heal. It's just so he's on standby, okay?" He took Ben's shrug as a sign to continue. "Wyatt, I'm at Josh Muse's place. There might be some trouble going on here. I don't know. Just… be alert, got it?"

Nixa had raised a foot and was poking Ben impatiently in the shoulder, gesturing violently to her manacles. Rolling his eyes, Ben pressed a finger to the lock on the left manacle, filling the cavity with ice. The excess pressure burst the contraption open, freeing one of Nixa's arms. The blonde immediately reached up for the other chain, yanking on it with both hands and pulling it from the ceiling with a screech.

The heavy metal links flicked out violently, slicing a gash above Chris's right eye. The witch-whitelighter crumpled sideways, blood trickling from the head wound. Nixa gasped, bringing her hands up to her mouth in shock as Josh, now out of Chris's spell, unfroze.

"You can ignore the comments I made earlier about how lame my rescue party was," Nixa said in a small voice to Ben.

Ben gave her a wry smile. "Would you like cream with your humble pie, madam?"

Nixa frowned, affronted. "What? No. No dairy for two weeks, remember?"

Ben sighed, rolling his eyes as Josh caught up with the situation. Nixa walked over to Chris, dragging the chain that had rendered him unconscious behind her. Frowning, she looked at the gash on her friend's forehead and winced sympathetically, wringing her hands momentarily as she looked around the room for the cloth that Josh had been using earlier.

"How… What…?" the baseball player stuttered, looking around the room at the unconscious Chris and at Nixa and Ben, who were not in the same places that they'd been before he'd been frozen. He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "You know, my dad told me about witches. And that's what I thought that you might be when I heard you had all of those liquids, but… I don't know. I didn't really believe it until now. Witches… And you're _guys_? That's… just weird. Shouldn't you be warlocks or something? Witches… It's so sissy." Josh broke off thoughtfully, shrugging. "But then again, so are you. I guess it all fits."

"Hey, yeah, will you please hurry up and threaten my life already so I don't feel bad about hurting you? This chitchat is a little dull. Thanks."

"Oh, _you're _gonna hurt _me? _I'm surprised your face has stopped hurting already from when I sent you flying upstairs. What are you, Olsen? Stupid?"

Nixa shot a withering glance over her shoulder at him. "Witches, Josh. You just said that you knew that they were witches. I wouldn't piss him off," she advised sternly, not breaking eye contact with him. "Now, I need to try and stop this bleeding. Where's your cloth?"

Josh looked her up and down for a while, his fists balling at his sides, and seemed to make a hard decision, looking pained at the thought of it. He looked down at Nixa, tending to Chris and swallowed, his face tightening before he came down the stairs and went into the laundry niche. "So if you're witches… What exactly is it that you can do?" he asked over his shoulder, sneaking a look at Nixa and Chris out of the corner of his eye. "Are you like... special or something? Do you have a special soul, or did you learn how to be witches?"

Ben hesitated. "Um… Well, we're, we're born with it," he said finally, something feeling not entirely right about the entire situation. "So… special souls. I guess… Lucky us?"

Josh reached into the junk drawer in the counter and began shoving things around in there. Random tools, nuts and bolts, screws and nails, a bunch of keys that they had no idea what they were for, instruction booklets for appliances they'd long since thrown away and… That. What he was looking for.

"Why do you want to know?" Ben asked, narrowing his eyes. He heard a drawer slam shut and cocked his head, stepping closer to the niche slowly, trying not to make a sound. He raised his hands defensively, ready to attack the baseball player should he try anything.

"Curiosity," Josh said simply, coming out of the niche suddenly, startling Ben so much that the witch nearly unleashed one of his powers at him. "What's the matter? Were you spying on me?"

"Curiosity," Ben mimicked stonily, looking into Josh's eyes. He saw something flicker in there, behind the perfect blue irises, but couldn't be sure what it was. He frowned, trying to discern it, but it had already gone, the normal Josh Muse façade having slid up like a tinted electric window.

"Killed the cat, Olsen," Josh said, disappointed. "Killed the cat." He turned his back on Ben for a second before turning around, lunging at the witch who jumped backwards. The point of an athame nicked at his soaked shirt, fraying the cotton.

"What are you doing!" he demanded. "What is wrong with you!"

"Oh, come on. I wasn't going to hurt you… badly. I need you alive. After all, you've got a… 'special' soul, right?"

"You want take my soul? Huh… Let's see… No?" Ben's head dropped suddenly and he reappeared behind Josh. The witch kicked him in the back, sending the baseball player tripping forward onto the floor. However, Josh managed to keep possession of the knife, something that Ben had been hoping to dislodge. "Dammit," the witch hissed as Josh rolled over, groaning, and touched his bloody chin gingerly.

"Alright, who—" He spotted Ben behind him, his fists raised in a fighting stance and did a double take, looking behind him at the unconscious version of his adversary before looking back at the astral form. "What the hell is going on?"

Ben huffed an exaggerated, impatient sigh. "Let's go over this one more time. Witches. Special. Got that? It was like five minutes ago. You know, before you pulled a dagger and tried to gut me?"

"This… this can't be real. No, this isn't real. There's no way that you have the power to be there and… there. Crazy. This is crazy."

"Well, believe it. We also have the power to vanquish you as well, so—"

"Ben… No. Josh _isn't _the demon," Nixa said quietly. "He's just—"

"—_feeding_ a Talbard demon. Okay… That wasn't what we came here to deal with, but—"

"Ben!"

Josh pounced on him from behind, grabbing him around the neck and pressing the athame to his throat. "Just behave. Seriously, please, just behave. Just cooperate for once in your miserable life, Olsen. Accept what's coming as your fate. Destiny. Whatever. Just stop fighting it. Please. This has to happen, whether we like it or not. It has to happen."

"Why?" Ben asked. "Why have you got to feed me to a demon? Why is that my fate? How is it fair that you get to decide whether I live or not?"

"BECAUSE IF YOU DON'T DIE, MY MOTHER DOES!" Josh yelled, tears drifting in front of his vision again. He was shaking Ben as he shouted. "You've got to die to save her. If you don't then… She's gonna be gone. So that's why I get to decide. I don't like doing this. I _hate _doing this, but it's what I have to do. She's dying. She has cancer. She's… she needs this. Got it?" Sobs took over his words as Ben's body flared red and disappeared, nearly sending Josh sprawling to the floor again.

"That's why you're doing it?" Ben asked from the other side of the room. "Not for power, or money, but so your mother won't die?"

"You think I'd do this for power and money? You think I'd kill for those things? Who do you think I am?"

"Shit," Ben murmured, tilting his head back and staring at the ceiling. "Shit…" He wasn't just killing a demon anymore. He was killing a demon and signing the death warrant for another human being. Before, everything had always been so black and white. Kill the demon. Save the innocents. Warm glowing glow, everything went back to normal. But now… "Shit," he repeated, temporarily stunned. This wasn't what he had expected. He had expected that Josh had been feeding the demon lives to become the baseball player that he was, or to make his dad successful in his business so that they had the money to buy a place like this and have whatever they wanted. Never, _never,_ had he dreamed that Josh would have been doing this for such a complex and selfless reason.

Or was it? Okay, so doing this for his mother's life was pretty selfless, but taking away other people's lives, and taking away other people from their families to do so, that was selfish. You couldn't sacrifice many people for one person, no matter how much you loved them. And so, he had to vanquish the demon, screw the costs. It sucked, but that was what he had to do. That was it. Decision final. Josh's mom had to die. And yet, when you put it like that… He growled, burying his face in his hands. Moral dilemmas had no right to be so complicated.

"Put the knife down," Nixa said, rising slowly to her feet. "Look, if it helps you can try to feed me to the demon. It totally won't get past the entrée, but you can try. If it will make you feel better, then—"

"Wait, what? You're going to _kill _it? You can't do that. Please, you can't, my mom—"

"Will die," Nixa finished quietly, nodding. "And I'm not pretending that that won't suck, Josh. Because it will. And then it will suck some more. But… you told Ben all about destiny. Your mom got cancer. It's mortal. It's a horrible disease but people get it and people die from it. You can't change that by killing people to keep her alive. It's not right and it's not fair."

"You don't know anything about fairness! YOUR mom isn't dying, is she? You're not going to be left motherless, are you? NO! So SHUT UP about things you don't understand!"

"You've got to see that this can't go on. You said that you hate it. Then help us put a stop to it, Josh." Nixa moved forward and touched his shoulder gently, feeling him flinch beneath her fingers. "Give me the knife."

With shaking hands, he held the knife out to her, blade first. She was about to take it when he suddenly slashed violently with it, slicing her arm open. She hissed, clapping her hand over the wound and stumbling backwards, narrowly missing falling over Chris. She had barely righted herself when Josh grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him roughly, pressing the blade to her neck this time. She was about to bend at the waist to flip him off her when he jabbed her right in the centre of where her collarbones met, drawing blood.

"I'm serious. I don't need you, Nixa. I don't want to have to hurt you, but they, apparently, have 'special' souls. They could _cure _Mom instead of just stopping her dying. Them, I won't risk hurting. You… If you annoy me, then I'll have to do it. Okay?" He received only a mutinous glare from Nixa, and took it as a yes. "Olsen. Cupboard under the sink. Some chains. Get them."

Ben his nails into his palms to stop himself saying or doing something that he would regret. Turning on his heel smartly, he disappeared into the laundry niche and opened the cupboard under the sink. Hoping for a weapon of some kind, he was deeply disappointed when all he discovered was four sets of handcuffs hanging on nails on the back of the cupboard and three sets of the manacles that Nixa had been in all led out on paper, newly oiled.

"Manacles for the lady. Handcuffs for you. Hurry up."

Snatching the requested items from the cupboard, Ben banged the door and shoved them at Josh wordlessly, wondering if there was something he could do to free Nixa without getting her throat cut. Blood was winding its way into her shirt from the wound that Josh has given her earlier so he decided that, for now, the answer was no.

"Does it look like I've got the ability to do anything with these? Cuff yourself to the pillar."

"There is no way—"

Josh traced the athame along Nixa's collarbone, drawing a thin, gleaming, bloody line. "Do it. Please just do it."

Ben accidentally bit through his cheek, tasting warm copper in his mouth. He dumped the manacles on the floor at Josh's feet and, swallowing the blood, the witch set his jaw and fastened one cuff around his wrist before walking over to the pillar and sitting down on the opposite side to Chris. Still glaring at Josh, he awkwardly bent his hands around behind his back and clicked the second cuff into place, tugging on his restraints as proof.

"Thank you," Josh murmured. "Thank you for not making this hard."

_**Monsters of the Deep End**_

Bridget sat in her mother's car listening to the screeches and laughs of her peers wafting from the backyard of Josh's house. So what if she only had her temp license? She was almost sixteen and she didn't run stop signs. Mostly. Besides, if you could floor it and make it across, then why stop? Unless you were a wuss. Anyway, the point was that no one would know.

She tugged on the strap of her lilac top and looked at herself in the mirror once more. Stupid bubbly look. Her big sunglasses and hair pulled up. She pulled her mouth into a wide smile and tilted her head. There. SoCal bimbette to the max. Goddamit, this was one hell of a facial workout… She looked back in the mirror one last time. She'd fit in….

Right?

"Come on, Vance. If Nixa can slay demons in stilettos, you can in a bikini." But there was nowhere comfortable for one to hide a nice shiny sword and her denim shorts could hold nothing but a wallet and a couple of ninja stars and she didn't feel like having a sharp piece of metal stab her in the ass. "Alright, just do it. Ben and Chris are probably in trouble and Nixa… well who cares." She got out, locked the doors to the Mustang and made her way up the winding, car filled driveway, pulling down her dark glasses as she passed giggling cheerleaders and a couple of rowdy basketball players and—

Wyatt.

Damn.

Ugh. Why didn't these sunglasses come with an invisibility button? She held her breath as she walked past him, cringing inwardly, but he didn't notice her as he walked past her towards the party. She started to breathe again, then suddenly wasn't sure if she should be offended or grateful at his lack of acknowledgement. Whatever. It didn't matter. She had to go save her friends.

And maybe Nixa too.

It wasn't too difficult to get inside the house. People were coming out or stumbling in and she just slid past a sopping wet and groping couple in the back hallway and casually walked into the kitchen, skirting treacherous puddles on the tiles. Either no one recognized her or they did and were just ignoring her. Either way she was totally thankful. Now then:

_  
If I were two idiot witches and some prissy little Hunter, where would I be?_

Basement or attic. Or a bedroom. She'd work her way up. That involved finding the basement… and she couldn't find that.

Dammit. Who the hell doesn't put the steps to the basement in the kitchen? It was like some unwritten law or something. But then again, the Muse house (their really big house) was fancy and the steps were probably in a laundry room or something. Unless the laundry room _was_ in the basement, then Bridget was even more screwed.

Dammit.

She revolved slowly, looking around the kitchen. There! Small, discreet door. Grinning, she lunged towards it, turning the handle and flinging it open, expecting to see the basement steps, but it was just an overly large broom closet. She scowled at its dim interior and slammed the door.

The loud call of a wet T-shirt contest startled her and sent everyone running outside suddenly. She yelled as she nearly got knocked into the kitchen chairs by some jerk running past her, but he paid no attention and soon she was left in the empty kitchen. She was glad that she had gone against her instincts to cover herself up with a T-shirt, or she'd probably have been dragged out there too, and the thought of all of those guys leering at her made her skin crawl.

"Nice way to get a house nice and empty," she murmured. Okay, no entrance to the basement in the kitchen. Move on to… somewhere else that would have basement access. _Where? _Think…

Weapons were needed first but, luckily, the kitchen looked as if it had been purposely built to house some kind of culinary show, and there was a nice array of sharp, pointy knives to play with. She grabbed a butcher's knife from the block and tested its balance before reopening the closet door and grabbing the crowbar she'd seen there, spinning it like a baton twirler.

"Hot chick in a bikini with sharp weapons. Be still my heart."

Fuck.

The crowbar slipped from her grasp to the floor with a loud metal clanging that reminded her of an alarm. She plastered a sweet smile of the 'Imma stab you' kind onto her face and turned to the twice-blessed bastard. Swim trunks, sleeveless white shirt and sunglasses propped on his head, he was the definition of a normal high schooler. So she felt a teensy, tiny, molecule sized bit bad for him but he annoyed her and therefore she didn't care. "So what's a guy like you doing in a place like this?" she asked amiably, bending to pick up the crowbar and adjusting her grip in case knocking him over the head was required.

Wyatt shrugged. "The call of a wet T-shirt contest is in my blood. Instinct. I'm guessing you're looking to kill some big bad demon?"

"No. I just like walking around with weapons and stabbing random people who _damage my calm_," she said deliberately, waving the butchers' knife in his general direction before turning into the back hallway where the steps upstairs were. The basement must be here somewhere…

"You know, demon hunting by yourself could be dangerous. Especially since Chris and the idiot and Nixa are all captured."

Ugh. He was _still _behind her? She turned on her heel and opened her mouth to say something but a large gaggle of giggling girls were headed in their direction and she dropped the weapons behind a potted plant and pushed Wyatt into the small closet under the stairs.

"Wow. In a closet with Bridget Vance. An honour to have made the list. So do we make out with the lights on or off?"

"Think with your upstairs brain for once, moron. What the hell are you doing here?"

Wyatt shrugged. "Same reason you are. Chris called. Told me what was up. And if he dies and I don't save him, I'll be grounded for the rest of my natural life so…"

"Called you— oh, right. Whitelighter thing." Bridget pressed her ear to the door. The giggling girls were still there. "Look," she turned back to him. "There's really no point in you helping me. All you're going to do is get in my way and stand there and look pretty and I don't have time for that so—"

"You think I'm pretty, huh?" Wyatt dodged her smack. "Well I would go for devilishly handsome but—"

"Oh, you're such a badass, aren't you?" she sniped. "With your stupid orbs and orbing ball things. Amateur." The girls had left and she opened the door. "And hey, gimme some space. I don't need you right on top of me."

"So _you_ like being on top— Ow!"

_**Monsters of the Deep End**_

She was twirling the crowbar again as she slunk through the house, the faint screams and yells of the cheerleaders having the hosepipe turned on them irking her. "Okay, Halliwell. Where's the basement?"

"Why are you asking me?"

It had to be around here somewhere. They were in some kind of… dead-end corridor, the sole purpose of which seemed to be to have doors built into it and display a million pictures of Josh's stupid grinning face. It was a stupidly designed house, and one day she was going to have to introduce the architect to her Samurai sword.

"You're the witch, right? Sense it or something. I'm just here to kill things." She spotted another door and wrenched it open. Coat and shoe closet. Growling, she kicked it closed. How much freaking storage space did the rich _need_, anyway? Four doors to go. One of them had to be the basement. They couldn't _all_ be places to cram their materialistic tat.

Wyatt rolled his eyes, grinning at her. "Girl with many talents."

_Thwack_

"Hey!" Wyatt yelled, rubbing his upper arm. "I'm on your team!"

"Then go sit on the bench," Bridget said coldly, spinning on her heel and trying another door. Expecting it to be another closet, the comparative vastness of the space before her gave her slight vertigo. They were looking into what appeared to be the den. Bridget did the customary sweep of the room, but found no doors leaving off of it.

Suddenly, there were footsteps behind them, and Wyatt shoved her in the small of her back. She tumbled forward, tripped over the Turkish rug and landed hard on the parquet beneath it.

"You pushed me!"

"I did not," he scowled, putting his ear to the door. He heard vague footsteps on the staircase through the wood and relaxed again, opening the door. "That was a nudge. It's not my fault you fell on your face."

Bridget snatched up the crowbar and exited the room, slamming the door behind her. Her face was hot and prickly and she knew that she was blushing.

"_This _is a push." He pushed her away from him, motioning exaggeratedly to demonstrate his point. "See?"

The Hunter raised the crowbar threateningly. "What are you? Twelve?" she pushed him back and snorted as he fell into an end table, upsetting a pot plant atop it. He snatched it out of the air and put it back on the table.

"There! _That _was also a push. You're getting it now. Let me show you one more time." He shoved her once more and she made an exasperated noise and shoved him back, throwing him into a door that was ajar. It banged open and he went tumbling backwards into the unknown darkness beyond.

And grabbed her arm in the process.

* * *

**_Dun! Well... You know, kind of. Thank you for all of your kind reviews and I'm so sorry for not posting. It just... Busy. So very, very, very busy. Nightmare. Anyhoo, I have now. Hope it was enjoyed._**


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

The intermingling of thumping and swearing that appeared to be the soundtrack for the falling bodies caught Ben's attention. He craned his neck around to watch with wry amusement as what appeared to be a being with four legs, four arms and two heads came crashing down the wooden stairs to land on the concrete floor, perfectly still. The heap remained that way for a good minute before eventually a hand clawed at one of the steps, trying to untangle itself and its owner.

"Doesn't sneak and creep mean anything to you two?" Ben sighed, shaking his head at rescue missions these days. "We could hear you arguing for the past ten minutes."

Bridget was grumbling and trying to get out of the tangle of limbs that was her and Wyatt. "It's his fault. I was doing fine on my own," she bit out, managing to wrench all but her legs free from Wyatt's bulk.

"I found the basement," Wyatt shot back. She was using his shoulder to try and get her legs free and he shoved her hand off because she was pressing on a soon-to-be bruise. She fell back down on her ass and he smirked at her just as she glared.

"You pushed me so I shoved back. Therefore _I_ found it," she clarified icily, sniffing and she finally managed to roll Wyatt off her.

"You pushed me first."

"Did not! You started it — ow! That's my foot!"

Ben looked at the crowbar and butcher's knife on the ground. "And you didn't impale yourselves. That's a plus. Then we really would have been screwed," he mused, rolling his eyes at the warring pair.

Bridget could at last stand up, but her sunglasses were dangling in front of her face from one of their arms, tangled in her hair. She started carefully pulling them out, teasing them free while trying not to pull out any hair. She was bruised but mostly fine. Wyatt, however, had a cut forehead so she smirked at him. He scowled back and, as she pulled her sunglasses free, she scowled as well, sticking her tongue out at him. Wyatt made a face back and got to his feet, wincing.

"As entertaining as you two are," Ben sniped, rattling the handcuffs against the pillar as a hint. "If you could get us out, we'd really appreciate it."

"What's wrong with Chris?" Bridget asked, moving forward into the basement. "Did Josh do this?"

"Um… No. Not exactly…" Nixa said shiftily, looking to the floor. "We kind of had an accident."

Wyatt closed his eyes and snorted out a laugh. "One that rendered my brother unconscious? He's already down to his last fifty brain cells, kids. You might want to lay off with the whole knocking out thing, you know?"

"Fifty?" Ben whistled. "What's it like to aspire to that number, Wyatt?"

"Okay, someone uncuff him so I can kick his ass."

"Do I get front row seats?" Bridget asked eagerly.

"You could be the pep squad," Wyatt told her, patting her on the arm. "I mean, you're a little overdressed but that's easily fixed."

"I'm just guessing, but there was going to be a joke about climbing on top of your pyramid coming up, right?" Bridget asked, cocking her head.

Wyatt was about to answer when Ben cut him off. "Okay, firstly, ew. Secondly, have sex on your own time and far, _far _away from each and every one of my five senses. Now, Wyatt, big strong football player that you are _give us a hand_. Please."

"Ladies first," Wyatt said with a smirk, moving over to Nixa and flicking a wrist, unlocking the manacles. Nixa immediately set about rubbing her wrists, revelling in the feeling returning to her hands for the second time that evening. "And I think that, as a good sibling, I should heal my brother too?"

"Oh, yeah, this is great. Let's all draw out Ben's misery for as loooooong as possible. Thank you all," Ben bit out sarcastically, catching the golden glimmer of healing out of the corner of his eye.

"It's not so bad…" Bridget said tiredly, walking over to him. "Look at you, you're fine."

"I have like ninety ice burns on my hands from trying to get out of these freaking things! Don't stand there grinning at me, d— Wait, where are your clothes? Where have all your clothes gone? And, question: Why do you ever bother putting them on?"

Bridget narrowed her eyes, but her lips quirked upwards. "I should so slap you for that, but—"

"—you totally enjoyed it?" Ben finished for her.

"Let's just find you a key…" Bridget said, turning around and looking through the basement, trying to work out the most likely place that a crazed rich boy would keep keys to his handcuffs.

Chris woke up suddenly, groaning and putting a hand to the now-healed cut on his head. He looked up at Wyatt and smiled his thanks, extending an arm to be helped up. Wyatt did so, suddenly realising that his brother was so wet that he was squelching.

"Did you jump in the pool or something?" the blond asked.

"No, but Josh's goons thought that we'd make good water balloon targets," Chris replied sunnily, even though he was scowling. "God love each and every cave-dwelling one." He wrinkled his nose at his sleeve and flicked water at the floor, then peeled off his hoodie and began ringing the water from the fabric. The cool in the basement bit into his arms without the protection of his top and he shivered as goosebumps raced up and down his body. "I think I'm getting pneumonia," the younger Halliwell groused as his body was overtaken by a particularly large shudder. "Which is not fun."

"_You _were a target for water balloons?" Bridget asked gleefully, grinning. "Oh, man, I so wish I could rewind time… I would have gotten here like an hour earlier and told them to fill them with flour." She laughed, walking back over to the steps and picking up her crowbar, throwing it into the air and catching it languidly, knowing that every second that she ignored Ben it was making the witch's irritation build more and more.

Ben faked smiled at her. "Oh, you're funny. With friends like you, who needs enemies? Now, you're still standing there throwing that instead of HELPING ME. Huh. Look at that."

"Don't be such a baby," Bridget dismissed, waving her hand to illustrate. "I'm on it, I'm on it…" She huffed an exaggerated sigh, snatching the crowbar from the air and letting it rest loosely by her side. She did a kind of half-hearted turn, pantomiming looking and then paused, her face breaking into another wicked grin. "On second thought… Who has water balloons?"

"Not funny," Ben groaned, rattling the handcuffs again. "And by the way, there's no key. I've astralled all over this dump looking for it. So if there's anyone in the room that can pick locks or, oh, I don't know, _is in possession of super-strength or telekinesis _that would be real helpful."

"Jeez, you're such a cranky bitch when you get a little tied up," Wyatt said. "Besides, if you ever manage to get with a girl you might learn to like handcuffs."

"Oh, bondage humour? Great. We've now moved on to bondage humour. How freaking hysterical."

Nixa quirked a smile. "Well, actually…"

"You too!" Ben banged his head against the pillar behind him, closing his eyes and groaning. "I must have done something really bad to deserve you guys. I hate it when Karma wins. You know what? I need new friends. Seriously, when I get home, you're all going on eBay. Fifty cents or nearest offer for all of you. As long as they pay shipping."

"Good luck finding some friends that will stick around for fifty cents," Bridget remarked dryly with a snort. "And if you think that you're wrapping me in brown paper and FedExing me halfway across the country you _so _have another thing coming."

"Hm… Yeah, you know, you're right. I have nowhere near enough stamps for that."

Bridget stepped forward, her eyes flashing, but Chris stuck out his arm tiredly and held her back, rolling his eyes heavily. "You fight like you're married," he told both of them irritably.

"Married!" Bridget screeched, shoving his arm away. "What are you, crazy? If I ever get to the beginning of the aisle and found him up there, I'd impale myself on a candle holder."

"She's not worth it, really," Ben added. "I mean, all that effort to find a black wedding dress would be such a pain in the ass."

"There are plenty of black wedding dresses," Bridget sniped. "I looked them up online. And they're all very pretty. And, besides, if I got a black dress I wouldn't need to buy anything new for your funeral when I beat your head in, would I?"

"No, you wouldn't need to buy anything new. The prisons give you orange jumpsuits completely free."

"Jail? For killing you? I'd get to meet the President. I'd get an award. There would be no prison for me," Bridget said, extending her fingers to study her nails. "They better not try to fob me off with a ribbon. I want a fat ass trophy. Gold. Not gold-plated, either: gold."

"If you kill me, I'll haunt you forever. You'll never be able to get rid of me."

"So, really, nothing would change?"

Chris rolled his eyes once more exasperatedly. He hadn't meant to start off an entirely new argument. You never knew what would spark off an argument between Ben and Bridget, though. Although, argument was probably the wrong term. They would just continue to 'fight' without meaning a word of it until one of them ran out of ammo and was forced to concede. However, that often took a while. "Guys, c'mon. This is getting old," he cut in with, determined not to let this go on for a moment longer. He raised a hand to use his power on Ben's cuffs when the door burst open at the top of the stairs, admitting Josh. The baseball player hurriedly jogged his way down the steps, looking at his watch and not at the people assembled in the room until he reached the bottom of the steps.

"Wyatt?" he said in disbelief. "How…? And… Nina's friend? What are you doing here? What's going on? You can't be here now. You have to leave. This second," he implored desperately, fixing them each with a pleading look. "Seriously. Go."

"We've come to vanquish you," Bridget said, adjusting the grip on the crowbar. "Hope the Wasteland is to your satisfaction." She stepped forward, wielding the crowbar like a sword, but Wyatt got there first, pulling a vanquishing potion from the pocket of his swimming trunks and hurling it at Josh. The vial didn't break on the baseball player's chest but it did shatter on the concrete floor, bubbling away malignantly.

Josh pulled a face at the frothing ooze. "Yeah, one of you is going to need to mop that up. Whatever it is."

"No pillar of flames? Um… What? Did I miss something?" Wyatt asked, turning around and looking at Chris, who only frowned and shrugged in confusion. Wyatt rolled his eyes. "Wait, I get it. I knew that I shouldn't have used your vanquishing potion. I knew I should have made one of my own. Amateurs."

"Our potion was fine!" Chris said indignantly. "I expect you just threw it wrong."

"I threw it… Chris, explain. How do you throw something wrong?"

Chris opened his mouth to argue, but Nixa got there first. She stamped her foot, running a hand through her hair in annoyance. "Quit arguing. Why do I have to explain this _again_?" she grumbled, huffing a sigh. "Okay. All of you keep up. Josh is not the demon. Josh only feeds the demon. His dad summoned the demon to stop his terminally-ill wife dying from cancer, and Josh is feeding it while they are out of town. If anyone has any questions, please raise their hands so I can snap their wrists off and slap them with their own hand, because I am so not repeating that again."

"Crap," Wyatt said matter-of-factly. "Well, that screwed up my battle plan. How about everyone else's?"

"Out! Now!" Josh shouted, but with a pleading undertone to his yelling. "The demon—" The lights above him began blinking and he looked up at them fearfully, subconsciously backing up the steps and gripping the banister hard. "Is here," he finished in a whisper, obviously finding it hard to suppress his fear. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

From the shadows in the corner of the room, a large shape began emerging, seeming to suck the darkness into itself and grow bigger. Josh backed another step up the staircase as it oozed into the middle of the room and paused, its heavy breathing audible as what appeared to be its head looked around the room and each of them in turn, seemingly confused. After what seemed like hours of laboured breathing the demon turned towards Ben, raising a smoky, translucent hand and brushing it across the witch's cheek.

Ben shuddered involuntarily as he was seized with prickling ice cold. Gasping, he tried to shift his head away from the demon but couldn't manage to summon the strength to do so. Paralysis began to spread from the demon's touch. Eventually, the demon withdrew his hand from Ben's face and formed an energy ball. He threw it at the others.

Wyatt immediately dissolved into a cloud of orbs and Nixa and Chris threw themselves out of the way. Bridget held up her crowbar and jammed it into the pulsating, white heart of the crackling orb, twisting it and shattering the energy ball.

"Strike one," the Hunter muttered, readying her crowbar like a baseball player. "Bring it on."

Wyatt reappeared and the demon threw another energy ball at the blond Halliwell, which he redirected at the demon. However, it responded with another energy ball, and the two orbs collided in midair, the resulting explosion sending Wyatt and Bridget flying backwards into the laundry niche. Wyatt hit the washer while Bridget smashed into the wall above the counter and fell half in the sink.

Nixa and Chris got to their feet. Chris threw out his arm but the demon barely staggered. Nixa looked around desperately and saw Bridget's fallen knife. She ran to the bottom of the stairs and snatched it up. Josh grabbed her from behind, latching an arm around her neck so, choking, she pivoted violently forward, throwing Josh onto the floor on his back. She gasped, rubbing at her neck and, glaring filthily at Josh, she darted back into the fight.

"Witchy powers don't seem to be doing much," Chris said tersely, throwing out his hands frantically into what should have been a freeze. The demon just kept gathering more shadows from around the room and managing to move through the freezes despite Chris's best efforts. The demon growled and broke free, throwing an energy ball at Chris and throwing him to the floor. Nixa ran at it with her knife poised but the demon backhanded her mid jump, tossing her into the support pillar next to Ben's.

"THIS is why you should've unchained me," Ben muttered, gritting his teeth as the demon advanced on him. Closing his eyes, his chin hit his chest and he reappeared behind the demon in a blur of red. "Hey!" his astral form yelled. "Lord of the Rings reject! Over here!" The demon turned on him and the witch gulped. "Should've thought this through…" he muttered, backing away as the demon advanced. Bridget had still been clutching her crowbar when she had been hit, and the knife that Nixa had had was nowhere to be seen. "Bridget, Nixa, _anyone _who wants to jump in now and save me?"

The demon threw an energy ball at Ben's astral form, blasting it into the back wall. It disappeared before it hit, the red smear barely discernable from the energy ball's explosion. Ben woke up just as there was some movement in the laundry niche. Wyatt was clawing his way back to his feet using the counter above him, still looking dazed. The demon turned back to face Ben, walking back towards the witch, who kicked out at the demon. His entire leg went numb as soon as it connected, and then he felt the demon's claws puncture the skin around his temples, drawing blood.

He was suddenly gripped with a paralysing pain. It crushed the air from his lungs and stopped him drawing anymore in. He gasped, yelling wordlessly. Behind his back, his hands were withering away to nothing. The nails were yellowing and creases and liver spots were spreading their way across the surface. Across the top of his head and around his temples, a streak of metallic grey began spreading through Ben's otherwise dark hair, zig-zagging from one strand to the next.

His eyes sunk deeper into his sockets and the skin around them became finely and then deeply lined. His brow furrowed into uncountable crevasses and his lips became pinched, lines radiating from them etching themselves on his skin. He threw his head back, finally drawing the tiniest of breaths but letting it out again in a yell. His aging face screwed up in pain, he dimly caught sight of Wyatt throwing an energy ball, but it just glanced off something before it hit the demon and exploded on the wall, scorching the concrete. Ben wanted to yell out that the thing, which paid little heed to magic normally, was invulnerable while feeding but didn't have the capacity to do so.

"Hey, you!" Bridget yelled, stepping up behind the demon and hitting it with every ounce of strength that she could muster with her crowbar. "I'm talking to you!" she shouted, beating every inch of shadowy, wispy skin that she could see and reach. "Leave him ALONE!" She rammed the point of the crowbar into the demon's back. It reared up, roaring in pain and turned, swiping the crowbar across the room and turning on Bridget.

Ben gasped in a shuddering breath, feeling his hands and face itch as the skin sprang back to being supple and young as his body pumped the life that the demon had been sucking out back in. Youth washed back across his face like a veil, re-colouring all but one streak of hair at the front of his head, which remained white. Sagging, the witch had to fight from passing out.

Bridget jumped and kicked the demon and it staggered backwards but managed to ready an energy ball in its palm. Bridget ducked under it and Chris directed the thing back at the demon, sending it crashing into the wall. Bridget felt a tug at the bottom of her faded denim shorts and looked down, seeing Nixa holding out her knife to her.

"Get him," the blonde bit out, her face betraying her pain.

Bridget took the knife. The demon was just starting to get up, so she waited until it was standing and them took aim before throwing the knife as hard as she could. It struck home with a satisfying _thunk_, embedding itself in the demon's forehead. It slammed backwards, the knife cracking the concrete behind the demon's skull as it was driven in. The demon began to convulse before rapidly dissolving as the shadows reclaimed it, one final ball of light rising from its chest and exploding, blinding them all so that, when they could finally manage to look again, the demon had gone.

"You know, I think I'll keep this," Bridget mused, crossing the room and wrenching the knife from the wall. "I feel that we've grown quite attached." She slid it into the waistband of her shorts and toyed absently with the handle as she turned back and surveyed the room.

"Are you okay?" Chris asked gently of Nixa, who was clutching at her ribs.

The blonde nodded, biting hard on her bottom lip. "Fine," she managed before tears washed over her blue eyes and began to spill down her cheeks. "I'm fine," she lied once more, not accepting Chris's hand up but rising painfully to her feet by herself. "I'm okay. Just… I… I'm really sorry," she choked through tears, before turning on her heel and fleeing the basement.

"Nixa?" Chris called, stepping over Josh to get to the steps. "Nixa!" The door slammed at the top of the stairs and she was gone. "Are you guys okay here?" Chris asked. "I think I should go after her."

"Don't," Bridget murmured, shaking her head. "I think she wants to be alone right now."

"But—"

"No," Bridget cut him off firmly. "She won't want to see anyone. Trust me."

"It's dead," Josh said, sitting up and staring at the slight pit in the concrete wall that Bridget's knife had made. "It's… dead. You killed it…"

"We had to," Bridget said. "It's kill or be killed. We had no choice."

"There's always a choice!" Josh yelled, gripping at his hair. His eyes were darting back and forth and he stood him, looking as if he, too, was about to burst into tears. "You didn't have to kill it! Do you know what you've just DONE?"

"We saved people," Chris told him, stepping in and glaring at Josh. "And that was the right thing to do."

"You've killed my mom!"

"Cancer killed your mom, Josh," Bridget said. "Not us."

"No…" the baseball player muttered, hugging himself. "No, this… _you _killed her. You've killed my mom…" He took one last glance at the hole in the wall and gave such a wail of pain that even Ben felt for him and ran from the basement, slamming the door behind him.

"It had to happen sooner or later," Chris said. "Right?"

"We did the right thing," Wyatt reassured him, throwing at arm around his brother. "You don't sacrifice the many for the sake of the one, remember?"

"Doesn't stop it sucking," Chris said glumly, walking away from Wyatt to go and sit on the stairs. "We grew up without a dad, Wyatt. We've just sentenced him to growing up without a mom. Right thing or not… It sucks."

"Just because the choice is hard doesn't make it wrong, Chris," Bridget said. "We did real good today."

"I know," the younger Halliwell said with a shrug. "I know."

"Okay. This is all very touching," Ben said sarcastically. "But when you're all done being all glum and introspective, would one of you mind, oh, I don't know… GETTING THESE DAMN THINGS OFF OF ME!"

* * *

_**Thank you for all of your wonderful reviews. Just the epilogue left to go now. On my computer I kind of have another one of these demi-typed-up, and I may post that next. It depends whether you all think it's worth it or not.**_

_**Also, it needs to be said that none of this would ever have happened without my Beta. That may sound so very cliché, but it's true. I never would have even written this if it weren't for her encouragement towards my idea, and I sure as hell never would have even thought of posting it without her. Go and see Pixie Wildfire and worship her. Heh.**_

_**Hope all was enjoyed,**_

_**Twisted Flame**_


	9. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Bridget knew that she should be doing something other than chewing on her lip, but she couldn't. She couldn't force herself to go in the door. Instead, bobbing her foot nervously, she twisted her mouth, looking through the mesh-latticed safety glass window into the library and trying to drum up the courage to go in. Well, more like find the right words. When she knew what she would say, then she would have the courage to go in. She frowned, huffing at herself and shoved into the door, swinging it open. So she would improvise. It would still go okay.

She hoped.

"Hey," the Hunter said hesitantly, putting her bag on the table and pulling out a chair, taking a seat opposite Nixa. Her textbook and various other reference books were spread across the table in front of her. The blonde didn't look at her, or recognise her presence, just kept reading the text book in front of her.

"Hey," Nixa returned eventually, starting to copy something down into her notebook in her precise neat handwriting. "What's up?"

"Nothing. I was just… wondering how you were, that's all." She was crashing and burning. Ugh. Why had she come in here without a plan? What moment of madness had caused this?

"Me? Good. Busy, though. Paper to write." But she had stopped writing now and was just doodling around her notes, looping decorative, curved lines around the words. She still hadn't looked up and Bridget, determinedly keeping her eyes focussed on the lined page in front of her. This was… awkward. And that was her being optimistic. She felt bad about yelling at Bridget on the sidewalk. Her losing control like that was totally not fair. And then she'd just gone to the party and needed rescuing, and Bridget had been there despite their argument. She wouldn't have blamed Bridget if she hadn't bothered to turn up. And yet she'd come through as a friend. She sucked. She really sucked as a person. Bridget was right. She was selfish.

Bridget looked pained at Nixa's blanking of her and began searching for a topic, any topic, to plug the gap in the conversation. Did Nixa still hate her? She _had _been excessively mean. But she had been mad — surely Nixa had to get that? People said things that they didn't mean all the time when they were mad. She took a breath in to talk, then thought better of it and exhaled again. She began picking her nails. Eventually, the black-haired Hunter hit on a topic and said, "Did you hear about Josh's mom?"

Nixa shook her head. "Nope. I've been kind of avoiding him and anything to do with him." She capped her pen and threw it in her pencil case.

"Ah…" The pauses were starting to irk her, so Bridget only let this one go on for a few seconds before ploughing onwards. "She got sick again. But the doctors think that they can give her chemo, or radiotherapy, now that the cancers have been shrunk. She might actually pull through the mortal way."

"Good for her," Nixa said emotionlessly, closing her notebook at her textbook. She zipped up her pencil case and reached down for her bag. "Anything else? Sorry, I'm just gonna go and find somewhere a little quieter. Biology paper to write and all."

Bridget got up to leave as well. "No, there was nothing else. I just thought you'd like to know that some good came of the whole Josh mess thing. Oh! And, oh…" She reached into her bag and fished out one of Nixa's flip-flops. "You left this in the basement after you, er, left. I thought, you know, you might want it."

"You thought right. Thanks." The blonde offered a smile and took the flip-flop, sliding it into her bag. She picked up her pencil case and crammed it in next to the shoe, then stacked the library books that she had been using.

"No problem. I'll… see you later, then." She turned and left, shouldering her bag and was halfway towards the door when she screwed up her face and stopped. She hadn't come here to give up. Bridget Vance never gave up. She spun on her heel. "I'm sorry," she said suddenly, before she lost all of her nerve. "I'm sorry for calling you selfish and—"

"No, _I'm_ sorry," Nixa said, ramming her book into her bag and standing up. "The way I acted… Not fair. You're right. This is my destiny and, while it sucks, it's… well, my destiny. I've got to accept it and stop whining about it. I mean, look where being normal got me. It nearly got Ben killed…" This felt better. She knew that she was gushing and that that was _so _unattractive, but it felt good.

"_You're_ right about the balance thing, though," Bridget said, walking closer to Nixa. "I do spend too much of my life hunting. And that party actually looked fun. You know: if you kind of mentally snip out what was going on in the basement. I would have liked to go with you and just have an evening of being normal, and I'm kind of pissed at myself that I screwed it up for me."

"So… I'm the most right one here?" Nixa tried tentatively, amused.

"If it makes you not hate me, then okay."

"I never hated you, Bridget. Our friendship is too string for me to hate you."

"Oh, by the way, please don't let on to anybody that I apologise," Bridget added hastily. "I don't want Ben finding out. I'll never here the last of it. He'll crack wise about me admitting that I'm wrong or something."

"We do owe him some wisecracks though, huh?" Nixa said. "I mean, what with _our _wisecrack nearly getting his life sucked out and all."

Bridget huffed a sigh and pouted. "I guess… But, you know, he doesn't really have much of a life to suck out. I'm sure that the demon was only minutes away from turning on one of us."

"I think you have to wait at least a week to use that one," Nixa said, laughing and sitting back down. "So, are we friends now?"

Bridget sighed exaggeratedly, hopping up onto the table. "I guess we have to be. I mean, I just returned my bikini and all they'd give me was store credit. And they don't even sell anything useful, like gum, so I have seventy-eight bucks to spend and no clue how to do it."

"Heh. You want a new shirt or something? Because we could do that."

"A _shirt!_" Bridget yelped disbelievingly. "Seventy-eight bucks is only going to buy me a _shirt_! I was thinking that that money was an entire new, I dunno, wardrobe! What about weapons? There's this really nice knife at the hunting store!"

Nixa smiled, finishing stuffing her belongings into her bag. When she was done, she linked arms with Bridget, still grinning. "Oh, you're young. You're still learning. Come, let me teach you. If it makes you feel better, we'll hit the sale rack. I can do some more of my freaky math and you might even come out of this with a shirt _and _a new pair of jeans."

"How's a girl supposed to refuse an offer like that?" Bridget said dryly, allowing herself to be dragged out of the door. "When do we get to go to Dairy Queen?"

* * *

**Facepalm I can't believe I forgot to post this! Why didn't anyone throw stuff at me! Don't be afraid to poke me, people.**

**I just want to say thank you all so much for your support on this. I never expected it to be this well-recieved. It was just something I posted because... it was there. Heh. Thank you for making this worthwhile. I'll sacrafice some figurative goats to you all.**

**Anyhow, Beta must be thanked and honoured as per usual, because this is her work too. Let's say we give her some goats too? Okay? Okay. Good.**

**Thank you all SO MUCH. Seriously. I can't express that enough. I will get around to replying to your last reviews in time, because right now business is just... busy. So heh. I haven't forgotten any of you. Promise!**

**Twisted Flame.**


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